
THE 

MERMAID’S 
M ES SAGE 

AND OTHER STORIES 


Class Z. 5 

Book JZL&- gt-S 

Copigkt N? 


COFiRlGHT DEPOStT. 


p 




«r 





k 


's 

\ 


\ 

I 


* 


. 1 ' 

f > 



i ' 

!/ 






/ 


% 




: k 


♦ » 
i' 


» 

!'■ 

■ 1.1 



' ft' 

I 





» ■ 


% 


4 


/ 

\ 


• I. ‘ 

if . 

1 . 

► , ' 


' f , 

I 



! 





V' 


I 


' !> 


.* . I 





' ' ' ' . 


r 1 






V’; 

* h 




\ 


\\ ‘ 


V ' , 


1 ’ 






■■ , ) ■ ; . ' , I ' 

.'V - ' ^ • 1 

<: ;< ^ “ , '• 




■■ ' l.'.i's Vi.' 

> , V ' i »' >1 >•. 






:/;v‘ 




''■'’V ' V ,' ■.:>:, ' ' 'V ,v^ ;V; 

'."- , .' -- ' 7 ’' -.J' : ■: ' ., ■ ". ■■ . •. , '',■ ■ 

' ; 1 ■ . ’ 41 ♦•: ■ ' • ' ,' .’ !• . '!' 

•< • ' ■ . ' , '■ '-r V ■'•■.■'< ■ ' ■ . ' : , ,;•> . ' . • ■ ■. 


• ^ 


', ':iu 
■ 


',■ I • ^ • 


' • I 

l 




\ • ^ 


• I 

• 4 

r • 


t 





't 


t 


\ 




t 



i 


f 


I 


0 


I 

4 



< . 

* . , 

y' 

\ . 


* 


I ; . 



\ 

• i 




I 

t 


\ \ 

' * \ 


‘A 


* ‘ ‘ i • 


'I 

I I 



% 


V 


f 


\ 


t 



r 





She selected the prettiest shells to send to the 
children. 







The 

Mermaid’s Message 

AND OTHER STORIES 


lUustrated by RUTH M. BISHOP 


19 19 

MILTON BRADLEY COMPANY 
SPRINGFIELD, MASS. 



Copyright, 1919 

By MILTON BRADLEY COMPANY 
Springfield, Massachusetts 


JUL 28 !9I9 



©CI.A58041 2 


f ^ 3 0 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

The Mekmaid’s Message 5 

The Wooden Horse 9 

Up to the Sky and Back 13 

Father Time and His Children 17 

Frost Fairies and the Water Drops 20 

March’s Call 26 

Joe’s Rosebush 29 

The Giant and the Fairy 33 

Pussies (Verses) 37 

The Fox and the Stork 40 

Tim’s Cat 45 

Stanley and the Squirrels 50 

A Story in a Cup of Cocoa 54 

Polly’s Clock 57 

The Squirrels’ Harvest 63 

The Robins’ Home 68 

Grandma’s Thanksgiving Story 74 

The Song They All Sang. 79 

Flower Fairies 84 

The Tulip’s Story 89 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

The Foolish Peach Blossom 94 

The Little Seed 97 

The King op the Oechard 101 

What The Sun Did 105 

The Swallows^ Good By 109 

The Willow’s Wish 112 

A Dear Little Family 115 

How We Cut Apricots 117 

Ethel’s Friends 120 

A Legend of the Dandelion 126 

The Polite Thrush 128 

The Water Drops 132 

Dorothy’s Christmas Eve 135 

Elon: a Story of the First Christmas 140 

The First Snow Storm 144 

Nannie’s Coat 148 

How THE Wind Fixed Matters 158 

The Little Cotton Plant 163 

About a Colt 165 

‘‘All’s Gone” 168 

Willie’s Visit to the Seashore 174 


The 

Mermaid’s Message 

and Other Stories 



THE MERMAID’S MESSAGE. 

BY MAUD LINDSAY. 

Down, down, down in the deep blue sea 
lived a mermaid. Mermaids are sea-fairies, 
and they have beautiful homes under the 
deep waters, with sponges and sea-anemones 
growing in their gardens, instead of flowers 
like our lilies and roses. They are very 
happy, too, and this little mermaid was merry 
all the time as she darted here, there and 
everywhere, joining the shining Ashes in their 
play of swimming around to stir the ripples 
into circles. 

Then, when she was tired, she would sit 
and sing while she made her crowns of coral 
and shells, or strung a chain of pearls which 
the oysters gave her. Sometimes, too, when 
the stars were out and the moon was bright, 
she would come up and ride on the backs of 
the great waves as the winds blew them far 
out after the ships or rolled them in to the 
shore. 


6 


THE MERMAID’S MESSAGE. 


One night, as she rode so gayly there, the 
ripples ran back to the shore with pleasant 
news to tell. “To-day,” said the ripples, 
“we chased each other up on the beach, and 
there, playing in the sand, were the dearest 
little children; and when they saw us danc- 
ing with the sunbeams, they stretched out 
their hands to us, and oh! how we wanted to 
slip up and kiss their little feet! but we dared 
not do it.” 

“Dear little children!” said the mermaid. 
And the waves repeated it over: “Dear little 
children!” in such a big voice that it sounded 
along the shore with a boom. 

Then the ripples ran away and the waves 
rolled on; but the mermaid still thought of 
the children, and wished again and again that 
she could tell them that she loved them. 

At last she thought of something that 
pleased her very much, and she slipped down 
from the wave and back to her home, in a 
great hurry; for she remembered her stores of 
shells, and wanted to send them as a present 
to the children. So she selected the prettiest 
ones, smooth and twisted, lined with pink and 


THE MERMAID’S MESSAGE. 


7 


purple, and to one, the largest of all, she 
whispered a message, and she hastened up 
just in time to catch a great wave on its way 
to the shore. 

The wave was glad to carry the shells, so 
she gave them into his keeping; and he tossed 
them far up on the yellow sand and they lay 
there waiting through the quiet night until 
the sunbeams came and brought the children 
out. 

The children spied the shells immediately, 
and then there was such a rejoicing. Mam- 
mas, nurses, and everybody had to look at 
each new treasure as it was found; and one 
mamma told about the wee creatures that had 
lived in each one long ago, while the children 
peeped into the pretty shell houses, and won- 
dered how it would feel to have a shell for 
a home. 

Then there were gardens to make, with 
broad, shell-bordered walks; and sea-weed to 
plant in the round sand beds; but at last a 
little boy found the shell that carried the mer- 
maid’s message, and when he held it to his 
ear, it repeated the message, soft and low like 
the sound of the sea. 


8 


THE MERMAID’S MESSAGE. 


Over and over it told the message as each 
child listened, and they knew that it was a 
message; and though they could not guess who 
sent it, or what it meant, they were sure it was 
a sweet one; and so it was, for the mermaid 
had said, love you.^^ 

^^Let’s whisper something to it ourselves,’’ 
said the children, “the very nicest thing we 
can.” And so it happened that a little girl 
whispered the words her mamma loved best, 
and they threw the shell far out into the water 
and it dropped down, down, down to the bot- 
tom of the blue sea, where the mermaid found 
it; and when she heard the message she knew 
the meaning; and it was just as sweet as her 
own had been, for the child had said, “We 
love you.” 


THE WOODEN HORSE. 


BY LILLIE PARKS GUNNELL. 

Hundreds and hundreds of years before 
the Christ-child came — so the legends tell 
us — ^when the people believed there were many 
gods who were so interested in the affairs of 
men that they often came down to help them 
fight their battles, and sometimes, alas! to 
punish them for their wrongdoings, there 
lived in a Grecian city called Sparta, the 
brave king Menelaus and his beautiful wife, 
Helen. 

^ She was so wondrously beautiful that many 
people traveled from afar to see her. For 
the Greeks loved the beautiful, and particu- 
larly did they love to see a beautiful man or 
woman. 

The poets wrote songs of her, some of 
which have come down through all the years 
to us, celebrating her surpassing beauty. 


10 


THE WOODEN HORSE. ’ 


There came one time to visit Menelaus the 
king, Paris, the son of Priam, king of Ilion, 
which is known also as Troy. Paris admired 
Helen so much that he wanted to take her 
away with him to his father’s city; so one 
dark night some of his men helped him carry 
her off to his ship, and then they sailed away 
across the blue iEgean sea to Ilion. 

When King Menelaus found that his beau- 
tiful wife was gone, and that the ships of Paris 
were nowhere in sight, he knew at once what 
had happened. The guest whom he had 
entertained and made welcome had done him 
this cruel wrong. Then Menelaus was very 
angry. He called his trusted friends and 
brave soldiers together and lost no time in 
going aboard his own ships — for he was at the 
port — and setting sail for Ilion, in order to 
punish the wicked Paris and bring back the 
fair Helen. 

When they arrived at Ilion they could not 
get inside the city, so they pitched their tents 
near by and waited. 

In those days the cities had high walls built 
aU around them (except Sparta, whose men 


THE WOODEN HORSE. 


11 


were so brave and warlike that they defended 
their city many years without the aid of a 
wall), and these high walls had great strong 
gates through which the people passed out and 
in. The gates were guarded day and night, 
and sentinels were always looking in every 
direction for any enemies who might come 
that way. 

Though the Spartans watched and waited, 
they could not gain an entrance through any 
one of the six gates of Troy. 

At last, after besieging Troy for ten long 
years, some one thought of a plan. They 
built a great wooden horse, hollow inside, and 
large enough to hold several men. Then they 
told the Trojans that they had decided to 
return to their own country. The wooden 
horse, they said, was built as an offering to 
the sea-god, to insure them a safe voyage 
home; and if, after they had left, the Trojans 
would take it inside their walls, the sea-god 
would always take care of them and keep them 
safe whenever they went sailing on the seas. 

The Trojans were glad the seige was to be 
ended at last, and, believing what was told 


12 


THE WOODEN HORSE. 


them about the wooden horse, they were very 
glad to have it. 

After the Spartans had put some of their 
bravest men inside the wooden horse and 
made believe that they had gone away, the 
Trojans came out and dragged it inside and 
locked the gates. 

When all had become quiet, and the people 
were sound asleep, — for they thought that all 
danger was past now and that they could 
sleep in perfect safety, — the Spartans came 
out of the wooden horse very quietly, over- 
came the sentinels, and unlocked the gates. 
All the Spartans, who had turned round and 
come back again as soon as it was dark, came 
in through the gates. 

The Trojans, being taken by surprise, were 
beaten; and Menelaus was very happy when 
he had his beautiful wife once more. He 
took her to his ship and they all sailed safely 
back to Greece. 

They were very glad to be at home again, 
after having been away for so many years. 
And the Spartans were glad, too, to have with 
them their own Helen, the most beautiful 
woman in the whole world. 


UP TO THE SKY AND BACK 

BY KATHARINE ORR. 

One day, just a little while ago, the great 
sun far up in the sky said to his little helpers, 
the sunbeam fairies, ^^Dear Fairies, I shall 
need a great many clouds next week; and I 
should like to have you help me make them/^ 
This made the fairies very happy. They 
were so happy that they ran back and forth 
from the sun to the earth a great many times. 

They were very helpful little fairies and 
they were always happy when they were help- 
ing some one. The sunbeam fairies had 
helped the sun so many times that they knew 
just how to go to work. Some of the fairies 
ran down to a great, hot city and they found 
some drops of water On the stones and on top 
of (Some of the houses and they carried them 
right up to the sun just as fast as they could. 

Some of the other fairies went down into 
the country early in the morning and they 


14 


UP TO THE SKY AND BACK. 


gathered some drops of dew in the fields and 
some drops of water that were down by the 
grasses’ feet. 

The rest of the little fairies ran down to a 
little brook and carried just as many drops 
from it as they could. 

By and by, the great sun said, ^^Dear little 
sunbeams, you have brought me so many 
drops of water that I have enough to make a 
great many clouds,” for you know that the 
clouds are made of a great many drops of 
water. 

After the great sun had the clouds all ready, 
he thought, '^Now if the wind were here I am 
sure that he would blow the clouds just where 
I want them to go.” 

Soon the sun heard the wind coming and 
then he said, “Can you help me to-day? 
I’ve a great many clouds to send out and I 
want them to go to different places.” 

The wind said that he would be very glad 
to go. Then the sun said, “Away over in the 
city, the streets are very hot and the trees are 
thirsty, so please take these clouds over there 
and give the city a drink.” 


UP TO THE SKY AND BACK. 


15 


By and by, the clouds were right over the 
city, and soon the little raindrops went falling 
down on the houses and the trees and the 
streets; and they were all glad to have a 
drink. And the same little drops of water 
that the sunbeam fairies had carried from 
the city were now back in their old places just 
where they were before. 

Then the wind went back to the sun and 
said, ^^Dear sun, I have taken those clouds 
to the city; now where shall I take the 
other?’’ And the sun said, ^ “The farmers 
in the country would like the rain to make 
their grass grow; so take these clouds over 
into the country.” The wind blew very hard 
and soon the clouds were up over the fields. 

In a few minutes the raindrops were hurry- 
ing down on the fields. And, do you know, 
the same raindrops which the fairies carried 
from the fields fell on the same fields again! 
So the little drops of water were just where 
they were before the fairies touched them. 

While the wind was away this time the sun 
looked down upon the earth and saw a little 
brook in which was just a little water, and he 


16 


UP TO THE SKY AND BACK. 


thought, ^The fishes in that brook need more 
water, so I will send a cloud over there.’’ 
When he heard the wind he said, ^Tlease 
take these clouds over by that brook.” And 
the wind did so, and the rain fell down in the 
brook, and the fishes had plenty of water. 
And it is so funny! those same little drops of 
water which the fairies took from the brook 
fell right back into it again. 

So, you see, the little drops went up by the 
sun and then came back again. And this 
was all because the little sunbeam fairies car- 
ried the drops of water up by the sun and 
because the wind blew the clouds just where 
the sun thought they ought to go. 

So you see we have to thank the sun, the 
sunbeam faitifes, and the wind for giving us, 
and everything on the earth, a drink. 


FATHER TIME AND HIS CHILDREN. 

BY MARY HELEN POWER. 

There once lived an old man whose name 
was Time, and he had four children, two 
boys and two girls. The boys' names were 
Winter and Autumn, and the girls' names 
were Spring and Summer. 

Now Father Time was very fond of his 
boys and girls, and he was always doing 
something to make them happy; but he 
believed that it was best for children to have 
some work to do, and not to play all the time. 
So he told Winter, who was the oldest, that 
he should expect him to look after the snow 
and the ice. North Wind and Jack Frost. 

Winter was delighted with his work, for he 
was very fond of the snow, and North Wind 
and Jack Frost were particular friends of his; 
and many a merry time these three had 
together after their work was done. One of 
the things that they loved very much to do 


18 


FATHER TIME AND HIS CHILDREN. 


was to freeze over the rivers and ponds, so 
that the boys and girls might have skating. 

Summer, Winter^s eldest sister, had a great 
deal to do, for she had all of the flowers and 
vegetables to care for; but it was a pleasure 
for her to take care of the flowers, because she 
loved them so much. She would coax the 
sun to shine warmly and the rain to fall softly 
upon them. Then the little flowers would 
lift their heads, and when the morning breeze 
passed them by, they would give him their 
very sweetest perfume, which was their way 
of saying thank you. 

Spring was the little baby sister, and every 
one loved her very much, because she was 
always so happy and glad. 

One day Father Time told Spring that she 
might take care of the little seeds that were 
lying fast asleep in the ground, and the buds 
on the trees. Then Spring was happy indeed, 
because she had been afraid that perhaps 
Father Time might think she wasn’t old 
enough to do any work, and she wanted very 
much to help. So she made up her mind to 
do the best she could; and she sent the April 


FATHER TIME AND HIS CHILDREN. 


19 


showers to awaken the little seeds, and then 
she sent the sunbeams to help them to come 
to the light; and the sunbeams and the 
showers helped the buds to blossom. So 
when the trees were all in bloom, every one 
said that Spring-time was the most beautiful 
time of the whole year. 

Autumn-time, the youngest brother, was a 
very busy little fellow. He was very fond of 
bright colors, and sometimes wore a scarlet 
and yellow jacket. His work was to help the 
grains, the fruit, and the nuts to ripen. Now 
Autumn knew that this work was very impor- 
tant, and that the farmers depended on him 
for their harvest; so he said to himself, “1^11 
do the best I can, and 1^11 get the sun to help 
me.’^ The sun was glad to help Autumn, 
and they worked very hard together; so that 
when the harvest time was over, and the 
farmers had filled their barns with the grain 
and fruit, they found that they had enough 
to last them until Autumn came again. 

Father Time was very much pleased with 
his children’s work. They all did so well 
that he never could tell which one did best. 


FROST FAIRIES AND THE WATER 
DROPS. 

BY ANNA H. LITTELL. 

Sparkle, Bubble, and Ball were the three 
little water drops who lived down by the 
shore of the lake. When Mr. Wind came to 
see them, they had a very lively play. They 
would jump up high and chase one another. 
Then all the brother and sister water drops 
and a great many of the cousins would take 
hold of hands, jump up as high as they could, 
and tumble over on the white, clean sand on 
the beach. Then they had a nice slide back 
intd the lake. Sometimes they played hide- 
and-seek, and slipped down under the pebbles 
on the beach and had a happy play. 

But, best of all, they loved to play with the 
children. Little boys and girls with pails and 
spades dug many a well in the sand. Then 
the water drops had fine fun playing — falling 


FROST FAIRIES AND THE WATER DROPS. 


21 


into the wells, then running away in the 
sand. 

One bright sunny day, when Mr. Wind was 
asleep, the little water drops grew sleepy too, 
and lay very still. 

Then two of the children, Robert and 
Ernest, took their rowboat from the boathouse 
to have a ride on the lake. The oars dipping 
into the water awoke some of the water drops, 
and they began to sing soMy around the boat. 
“Ripple, ripple, ripple^’ was what they sang. 

Then the Sunbeams, who had come to visit 
the water drops, smiled so brightly that all 
the little drops sparkled like diamonds, as 
they said, “Oh! Sunshine, we wish we could 
go far up to the sky with you. WeVe jumped 
as high as we could, but we always fall back 
again.’’ 

Sunshine said: “Do you want to go away 
from such a happy home? If you go with me 
you must travel a very long distance, but you 
will see a great many beautiful things, and 
learn to do many helpful deeds. Perhaps you 
may go to see the flowers, and help some 
thirsty plant to smile and grow.”. 


22 


FROST FAIRIES AND THE WATER DROPS. 


‘^Yes, we want to go,” the little water 
drops said. ^Tlease do take us with you.” 

^^Yes, I Will,” said Sunshine, ^^if Mr. Wind 
will come to help us.” 

Then the little water drops felt themselves 
rising slowly upward toward the sky. 

And the children on the sand Icmking at 
them said: ^^Oh, see the steam going up!” 

Then the water drops laughed, '^The chil- 
dren call us steam, — what fun!” 

But Ernestos mother said: ^^No, that is not 
steam, though it is something like it. It is 
our little friends the water drops taking a 
ride with the sunbeams. They are scattered 
into such fine bits that they look like steam. 
Some day they will come back to visit us.” 

^^Good-by, little water drops,” the chil- 
dren said. ^We shall watch to see you come 
back.” 

Higher, higher up went the water drops. 
“I think we must be almost up to the sky,” 
said one little drop. ''We are near the top of 
a mountain. See what a big white cap he 
has!” The cap was a big snow cloud and 
the wind carried some of the water drops close 


FROST FAIRIES AND THE WATER DROPS. 


23 


to the cloud. It was so cold that all the cloud 
children were busy making pretty white coats 
that were soft as wool. The water drops 
began to do the same work — just as the 
teacher, who was a frost fairy, taught them to 
do. 

Up at the top of the mountain were some 
green fir trees and some little plants and vines 
with red berries. It was so very cold that the 
water drops, with white coats, flew down to 
help keep the roots warm. They looked like 
little white birds flying through the air. 

The children saw them flying down, and 
shouted, ^^Here come the snowflakes. See, 
what pretty stars! Here is one with six 
points, and there is one with six sides. 

^^0 ho!^’ laughed Sparkle and his cousins. 
^^Now the children call us snowflakes. When 
we came away they called us steam. I won- 
der if they know that we are the same old 
playmates who used to sing and play by the 
shore of the lake.^’ 

Bubble and Ball and a great many of the 
cousins were blown far away from the top of 
the mountain to the rain cloud's home. The 


24 


FROST FAIRIES AND THE WATER DROPS. 


little water particles clung closer and closer 
together till they formed round drops again. 
Then they began to fall. 

said little Bubble, ^Tere we go. I 
wonder if we shall see the flowers when we 
reach the ground. I should like to give them 
a nice drink.^^ But it was cold weather and 
the flowers were fast asleep. 

Some of the rain drops jumped into the 
lake and others on the rocks and sand on 
the shore. They had a very busy time when 
the frost fairies came to teach them to make 
pretty white crystals that looked like stars. 

The drops that had fallen into a crack of a 
rock found they needed more room to play at 
star-making. They pushed until the crack 
was wider, to make room for their jstar points. 

Some water drops fell into a bottle on the 
sand; they were so crowded that they did not 
have room enough to make perfect star crys- 
tals. They tried to do their best, and pushed 
against the sfdes of the bottle until it broke. 
Then they had plenty of room. 

The rain drops that fell into the lake began 
to dance and play with the little friends they 
met there. 


FROST FAIRIES AND THE WATER DROPS. 


25 


^^Where did you come from?’’ asked all the 
little friends. 

^Trom the cloud land,” said the little rain 
drops. lived in the lake before we went 
to live in cloud land.. We went on a long 
journey with the sunbeams.” 

The frost fairies came to the lake, too, and 
soon all the water drops were busy making 
crystals. They worked away all night, and 
when the sun shone brightly in the morning, 
it looked down upon a hard, smooth floor on 
the lake, that seemed like glass. 

Robert and Ernest came with their sleds 
and skates. When they saw the lake they 
shouted, '^Hurrah! how smooth and hard 
the ice is!” 

'^Oh!” said Bubble and Ball, ^'the chil- 
dren call us ice now. I wonder if they know 
that we are the same old playmates who 
used to sing and play on the shore of the lake 
in the summer time.” 


MARCH’S CALL. 


BY MAUD L. BETTS. 

^^Ho-o-o! H-o-o-o! !” March was cer- 
tainly calling some one. Who could it be? 
The children came out; flew their kites, and 
rolled their hoops, laughing when the wind 
blew their hats off, and made them race 
down the hill after them. But still he went 
on calling. It must be some one else he 
wanted. 

The birds were too far away, most of them, 
to hear him. Who could it be? 

Down under the ground there was quite a 
commotion; little rootlets were spreading out 
this way and that, and there was such a 
whispering and laughing going on! What was 
the matter? 

Why, March had been calling the flowers, 
and they were all awake, beginning to grow 
with all their might, and having such fun over 


MARCH’S CALL. 


27 


it that you would have thought it was all play. 
They were in a great hurry to push their way 
through the ground and brighten the world 
with their blossoms. 

“Are you ready? It's time we were start- 
ing," called Snowdrop, her voice fairly bub- 
bling over with laughter, at the thought of 
the surprise she would be when she popped 
her head up. 

“Yes, yes;" called the others, “go on! 
We'll follow you." 

“It's too cold for me to go just yet," said 
Crocus, “but I'll be there as soon as dear old 
Bluebird begins singing." 

“I'll bring my silver and gold blossoms," 
cried Narcissus. 

“And my bells will be ringing, before your 
blossoms fade," laughed Hyacinth; and even 
while she was speaking, two rootlets found a 
chance to creep down into the cool earth to 
find some food for the little plant. 

Violet was so busily at work growing that 
she did not talk as much as the others; but the 
very first morning she popped her head in its 
violet bonnet above the ground and whis- 


28 


MARCH’S CALL. 


pered, ‘I’m here/’ the whole air grew sweet 
with her fragrance; and the children said, 
“Spring has come, for the violet’s here.” 

Dear, brave little flowers! They never 
grumbled, all through the long cold winter 
that they had to stay under the ground. They 
were sure that the loving Father who gave 
them their work to do knew what was best 
for them. Their long resting time helped 
them to work better. So when March called 
they were ready to jump up and go happily 
and busily to work growing, so that soon 
they might brighten the world with their 
blossoms. No wonder they laughed and were 
so happy. 


JOE’S ROSEBUSH. 


BY HELEN MEADER. 

You can see Joe, every day, standing on 
the corner selling papers. Now, who is Joe? 
Why, a little newsboy, and I want to tell 
you a story about him. 

One day as Joe was passing along the street, 
with his papers under his arm, he saw in the 
florist’s window a rosebush growing in a box. 
It was not a very large bush, but its leaves 
looked very green, and peeping out of the 
middle was the loveliest pink rose. It looked 
so proud, and seemed to gaze right in Joe’s 
eyes, as much as to say, ^^See how clean and 
fresh I look, while you— yes, I can count 
two buttons gone from your coat, and I see 
dirt on your face.” 

Poor little Joe. He looked long at that 
pretty rose, and only left when he heard the 
other boys calling, ^^Buy your papers! papers 


30 


JOE’S ROSEBUSH. 


for saUr^ He knew he must sell his papers, 
for if he didn^t where would his dinner come 
from? When the whistle blew at twelve 
o^clock he had sold just eight papers, and 
then he knew he could buy doughnuts for his 
dinner. 

As he was going to the bakery he stopped 
to take one more look at his rose friend. As 
he hngered before the window, a gentleman 
came up and stood beside him, and asked him 
if he thought the rosebush pretty, and if he 
would like it. Joe told him how he had 
wished for it that morning, but had no money 
to buy rosebushes. The gentleman (how 
kind it was of him!) paid a dollar to the florist 
and then put the box, with its pretty bush 
in Joe’s arms. The rose nodded its head, as 
much as to say: ^^Glad you’ve got me! glad 
you’ve got me! ” 

It was hard for such a little fellow to carry 
the box up two long flights of stairs; but he 
went very slowly, and, when he reached his 
room, he put his rose friend on the window 
sill, then sat beside it to eat his doughnuts. 


JOE’S ROSEBUSH. 


31 


One morning Joe opened his sleepy eyes to 
look at his pretty rose friend, but this time 
how sad it looked! No bright face, — all the 
leaves had drooped and faded in the night. 
What was the trouble? As soon as Joe’s little 
legs could carry him he ran to tell the florist 
his troubles. 

Now listen to what the man said to Joe. 

First water, then fresh air, then sunshine, 
is what we give our roses; did you give these 
three things to yours, Joe?” 

^‘Yes,” said Joe, ^^all but the sunshine; 
and how could I give it that, when it never 
comes in my room?” sobbed the poor little 
fellow. ^^What can I do?” he thought. 
know; I know — the roof! the roof! I can 
put it on the roof !” 

Out he ran, so fast that every one laughed. 
He found a nice sunny corner up on that high 
roof, away from everything but the sky and 
God’s sunshine, and the next morning the 
pink rose lifted up her pretty face, and once 
more looked at Joe. And when the April 
showers came how nice it was to have the 
green leaves all washed so clean and bright! 


32 


JOE’S ROSEBUSH. 


One morning Joe had a great surprise. 
There among the pretty leaves was the dearest 
pink baby rosebud, all wrapped in its green 
blanket. You can see Joe’s happy face every 
day on the corner, and if you ask the other 
newsboys why he looks so happy, they will 
tell you it is because he has a new baby rose- 
bud on his roof at home. 


THE GIANT AND THE FAIRY. 


BY EVELYN LINCOLN. 

Once upon a time there lived a giant in 
the land where giants live. There lived, 
also, a fairy among the flowers of the garden 
and in the mossy places in the woods down by 
the brook. 

Now the giant was big and strong and pow- 
erful. He thought he had only to speak and 
everybody would do just what he wished. He 
always said wonT’’ when anyone asked 
him for help. After a while he stopped smil- 
ing because he had said “I won’t’’ so many 
times that his mouth was drawn down at the 
corners. 

The fairy was tiny and not very strong 
but she was always smiling brightly and say- 
ing will,” if people wanted her to help 
them. Little I-Will went to visit boys and 


34 


THE GIANT AND THE FAIRY. 


girls and she liked to see them smile and say 

will/’ just as she did. 

One day the fairy, I-Will, lay down under a 
violet near the brook which tinkled over the 
stones like sweet music. She was soon fast 
asleep. Soon after, the giant, I-Won’t, who 
was taking a walk, sat down beside the violet 
where I-Will was lying. The brook soothed 
him to sleep also. 

That same day a little boy named Frank 
came with his nurse and sister to the brook to 
play. 

“Let’s play that we are fishes,” said his 
sister. “No, I won’t,” exclaimed Frank. 

The cross giant opened his eyes, looked at 
the boy and said to himself: “He is one of 
my kind. His mouth is drawn down at the 
corners, and he will be as cross as I am when 
he gets to be a man.” 

Then Frank said to his sister: “May, I am 
going to paddle in the brook. Will you?” 

“Oh, yes,” said May, “I will. That will 
be great fun.” 

The fairy I-Will opened her eyes and 
looked at May. She was such a dear, sweet 


THE GIANT AND THE FAIRY. 


35 


little girl that everybody loved her. She 
liked to help other people, and nearly always 
said, will.’’ 

While the children were playing, the giant 
had a great thought. He had no boys of his 
own, and wanted one very much, to teach him 
to be another I-Won’t. So he sprang up, 
took Frank in his arms, and with great strides 
walked off to Giant Land. 

“But I won’t go!” screamed Frank 

“That’s just what I want you to say,” said 
the giant. 

Whenever Giant I-Won’t asked Frank to do 
anything, Frank would say: “I won’t, I 
won’t, I won’t! I want to go home.” 

Then the giants would laugh until the tears 
ran down their cheeks. 

“Oh, no! you can’t go home,” said the 
giant. “You are too much like us, and 
nobody wants a boy at home who is always 
s^ing, T won’t.’ ” 

So Frank had to stay with the giants. One 
day he was crying very hard and wishing he 
could go home to see his kind father and 
mother and little May. 


36 


THE GIANT AND THE FAIRY. 


“Oh dear! he sobbed, “I will do anything 
they want me to, if I can only go home.’’ 

Just then a small voice whispered in his ear: 
“I am the fairy I-Will. This is the first time 
you have said T will.’ Now, if you are sure 
you will help your papa and mamma, and do 
what they ask you to without saying T won’t,’ 
you shall go home with me.” 

Frank did not stop to look at the giant 
I-Won’t, but put his hand in I-Will’s and was 
soon at home, happy. 


PUSSIES. 

BY ANNA B. BADLAM. 

What do you think I found to-day 
Up in the loft among the hay? 

What, but old Tab with her kittens three 
Purring away so cozily. 

Puss had been gone for a day or two, 

Where she was visiting nobody knew; 

Nor had she left a single trace. 

Yet I had found her hiding place. 

She glanced at me, gave a sleepy purr. 

As I gently stroked her soft gray fur; 

Then turned, with a look of motherly pride. 
To glance at the treasures by her side. 

She plainly said, '‘Did you ever see 
Any lovelier babies than my three? 

Sweet, and gentle, and loving, too, 

TheyTe the dearest children ever grew! 


38 


PUSSIES. 


^^There’s White-paws with his fur so fine; 
There^s Gray-back with a coat like mine; 
And little Snow-ball, soft as silk, 

With fur as white as old Moolly’s milk/^ 

All this I heard in her joyful purr. 

As I stood in the loft and looked at her; 
Looked at her and her kittens three 
Cuddled away so cozily. 

Down by the brook a willow grew 
And in its depths a shadow threw; 

Lo, on a twig, so small and slight. 

My eyes beheld the queerest sight! 

Three little pussies in coats of brown 
Lined with fur as soft as down. 

“What!” I said, in quick surprise. 

As I gazed at the twig with startled eyes. 

“Dare mother Tab’s babies run away. 

And have they come to the brook to play?” 
But the wind came whispering to my ear: 
“Mother Tab’s babies are not here. 


PUSSIES. 


39 


^^Her pussies are cuddled safe in the hay, 
These are willow buds at play. 

They are fairy pussies, under a spell. 

Listen, and I’ll the secret tell. 

“Soon they’ll throw off their coats of brown 
Lined with fur of softest down; 

Soon every one will a catkin be. 

The dainty child of the willow tree.” 


THE FOX AND THE STORK. 

ADAPTED BY ELLEN F. WIGGIN. 

One morning a fox, having finished his 
breakfast, started for a walk in the woods 
in the hope of finding some friend to talk 
with; and, as he walked along, he met on the 
shore of a pond a stork resting on one foot. 

The stork was quite willing to answer all 
the questions which the fox wished to ask, 
and, as he had a good deal of curiosity, he 
asked a good many. 

After they had said “Good morning,” and 
talked a little while, the fox asked, “How 
can you walk on one leg?” 

The stork laughed. “Why,” said she, “I 
never do walk on one leg; here is the other 
one tucked up here!” and she showed it to 
him drawn way up under her body. “It 
rests me to draw one leg up sometimes,” she 
explained. 


THE FOX AND THE STORK. 


41 


“Well/^ said the fox, ^^that is a queer way 
to rest. But don’t you find it rather hard to 
manage two such long, slim, red legs? Your 
legs are much taller than I am.” 

‘^Oh, no!” answered the stork. ^^Now I 
could wade out ever so far into that pond 
without wetting my feathers, and you, with 
your little short legs, would wet your fur coat 
if you tried to cross a brook.” 

^^But,” said the fox, “what do you want 
such a long, broad bill for? None of the 
other birds have one.” 

“Why, that is my fishing net!” exclaimed 
the stork. “Don’t you see? I put that way 
down under the water and when I take it up, 
the water runs out of these strainers here on 
each side of it, but the fish are left and I eat 
them. Some animals called men, fish with 
nets which they use in just the way that I fish 
with my bill.” 

The fox was so charmed with his new 
acquaintance and her instructive conversation 
that he invited her to dine with him the next 
day, and she very politely accepted. 


42 


THE FOX AND THE STORK. 


The fox went home, and, while he was 
thinking what he should have for dinner 
the next day, the thought came to him: 
^WouldnT it be funny to play a joke on the 
stork?” The more he thought about it, the 
more he wanted to do it; and at last, although 
he knew it was not a polite thing to do, he 
decided that he would play the joke. Accord- 
ingly, he worked very busily, and the next 
day when the stork arrived he was all ready. 
He invited her out to dinner, and what do 
you suppose that hungry stork saw? Why, 
nothing but soup served in flat dishes! 

Now you see, with her long bill, she could 
not get even a mouthful, but had to sit look- 
ing on and trying to eat while the fox with 
his little tongue, lapped out all the dishes. 
She saw that he had planned this to tease her, 
without thinking how uncomfortable she 
would feel having to go without her dinner; 
but she was not in the least angry. She tried 
to be very pleasant, and when leaving, invited 
the fox to dine on a certain day with her. 

She thought that the best way to punish 
him for his joke was to let him feel, too, how 


THE FOX AND THE STORK. 


43 


uncomfortable it is to go without one’s dinner 
when one has been invited to take it with a 
friend. But what do you think she did? I 
fear you never could guess, so I shall have to 
tell you 

On the day that she had planned to have the 
fox to dinner, she rose early and flew about a 
great deal so as to have everything ready by 
the time he arrived; and when she asked him 
to her table I fear that he felt very much as 
the stork did when she saw his. There was no 
soup in flat dishes this time, but, instead, there 
was some very nice chopped meat which the 
fox was very fond of, — but it was served in 
tall narrow-necked bottles and the fox could 
only look at the meat. He could not eat it, 
for his nose was too short and too large around 
to be poked down into the bottles. The stork 
seemed to enjoy her dinner very much indeed; 
those bottles were well suited to her bill, and 
when she had finished, she smiled and said: 

hope you enjoyed dining at my table as 
much as I did at yours the other day.” 

The fox felt very much ashamed, and, when 
he left, he said he wished very much that she 


44 


THE FOX AND THE STORK. 


would come to dinner with him once more; 
he would try to make it pleasanter for her. 

She consented, and at that dinner the fox 
was careful to serve what was meant for the 
stork in long-necked dishes, and only his own 
dinner in the shallow plates. 


TIM’S CAT. 

BY ALICE LOTHERINGTON. 

Tim was a little boy with blue eyes, brown 
hair, and such rosy cheeks that grandma 
used to say he put her in mind of the winter 
apples that were gathered on her farm in the 
fall. 

Tim was quite a little man. He had worn 
knee pants for a whole year, and next winter 
he was to have boots, rubber boots, so that he 
might go to kindergarten even if it did snow. 

Tim’s birthday had come. He was six 
years old. Grandma, Grandpa, uncles, and 
aunts had sent a number of presents, but the 
one that pleased the little boy most was 
papa’s gift. And what do you think it was? 
A kitten. A soft, white, fluffy little thing, 
which looked like a ball of cotton, as it lay 
asleep in its basket. 


46 


TIM’S CAT. 


Kitty had to have a name and after many 
talks with mamma and papa about it, Tim 
thought Fluff would be just the thing, she 
was so nice and soft. 

So Kitty was named Fluff. 

Fluff was a wonderful cat. You should 
have seen her skip and jump. In a short 
time she followed Tim just like a little dog. 
And when Tim whistled for her (you should 
have heard Tim whistle). Fluff would come 
to Tim as fast as she could. 

Fluff had quite a number of playthings, 
but the one she loved best was a ball tied to 
a string. She would take her paw and bat 
it to and fro, jump and try to catch it, and 
have lots of fun 

One day as Fluff was playing with the ball, 
Tim, who used his eyes, learned something. 
Fluff had only four toes on each hind foot. 
Tim thought that very funny indeed. He 
knew that he had five toes on each of his 
feet, and five fingers on each of his hands, 
so away he ran to tell papa about it. 

^Why, Tim,’^ said papa, ^^cats only have 
four toes on each hind foot and five toes on 
each front foot.’^ 


TIM’S CAT. 


47 


^Then/’ said Tim, ^They have eighteen 
toes instead of twenty.’’ 

^^Yes,” said papa. ^^Bring Fluff to me 
and let us look at her paws.” 

Tim put Fluff on papa’s knee, and papa 
told Tim to squeeze her paw gently 

“Why,” said Tim, “here are five sharp 
claws.” 

“Yes,” said papa. “Within soft paws 
sharp claws are found.” 

Fluff thought Tim wanted to play, so she 
made believe to bite him, just for fun. “Oh! 
oh!” said Tim. As soon as Fluff heard 
Tim’s voice she started to lick his hand. . 

“My!” said Tim, “how rough her tongue 
is, I wonder what makes it so rough.” 

“You know how sharp Fluff’s teeth are, 
Tim?” asked papa. “All animals that have 
claws and sharp teeth like our Fluff, live on 
meat, or are flesh-eating animals. 

“Now about Fluff’s tongue. Run to the 
kitchen and ask mamma for some milk, 
while I mind Fluff.” 

Tim started and before papa could take 
hold of Fluff, the kitty was at Tim’s heels. 


48 


TIM’S CAT. 


and went into the kitchen, too. But she 
came back when Tim did, and was very glad 
to get the nice saucer of milk which Tim’s 
mamma had given him for her. 

^^How quickly Fluff drinks her milk,” 
said Tim. 

“That is because her tongue is full of little 
cups, that are so small we can’t see them,” 
said papa. “When Fluff puts her tongue in 
the milk, the little cups get full, and so kitty 
is able to drink her milk quickly. These same 
little cups made her tongue so rough, when 
she licked your hand a few minutes ago.” 

Suddenly Fluff, who had seemed to be fast 
asleep on papa’s knee, sprang up and jumped 
through a hole in the window screen, after a 
piece of straw that was blowing about the 
yard. 

“I never thought Fluff could get through 
that hole,” said Tim; “suppose she had stuck 
fast.” 

“Fluff knows better than that,” answered 
papa 

“How can she tell?” exclaimed Tim. 


TIM’S CAT 


49 


^Why, my boy, that is what her whisk- 
ers are for. If Fluff can get her whiskers 
through any place, she is pretty sure to get 
her body through, too. Her whiskers are to 
her what our fingers are to us. She feels with 
them.” 

By this time Fluff had come back, and she 
stretched herself on the rug at Tim^s feet. 

^ Watch Fluff’s eyes, Tim,” said papa, ^^and 
tell me how they look.” 

^Why,” said Tim, ^The little opening in 
the center of the eye is long and narrow; not 
round like ours.” 

^^That little opening is called a pupil,” said 
papa. ''And now, Tim, go and play with Fluff, 
as I have letters to write.” 

Away ran Tim for a romp in the garden 
with Fluff, who was as lively as possible. 

When Tim was older his papa gave him a 
dog, and his uncle sent him a pair of rabbits, 
but there was no pet so dear to Tim as Fluff. 


STANLEY AND THE SQUIRRELS. 


BY KATB L. BROWN. 

When Stanley went out to Brookline to 
live it was late in the fall. The trees had 
on their bright dresses, and the nuts were 
dropping fast. 

The little boy was very fond of nutting. 
Every day he added to his store in the attic 
and talked of the fine times he and grandpa 
would have cracking the nuts on winter 
nights. 

One day mamma saw him dragging his little 
express cart up the avenue, laughing and 
shouting with delight. 

mamma!^^ he cried, bursting into the 
parlor, did find such a heap of nuts right in 
a hollow tree — low down. Why, they almost 
filled my cart!^’ 

Mamma told Stanley to take off his coat and 
cap and put them away. Then he climbed up 


STANLEY AND THE SQUIRRELS. 


51 


into her lap, and they sat looking into the fire. 

^^Such a lot of nuts,^’ sighed the little man; 
^‘wonH grandpa be glad?” 

wonder how they got there — so many 
nuts in a heap,” said mamma. 

“Dropped do wn from the tree, didn’t they ? ’ ’ 

“I don’t believe so many nuts could drop in 
a heap just there,” replied mamma. 

“Perhaps some other little boy put them 
there.” 

“I think some other boy would carry them 
home, just as my Stanley did.” 

“Why, who did?” and Stanley ’s voice was 
perplexed. 

“It must have been a little gentleman in a 
brown striped dress who lives in a tree.” 

“Do you mean the squirrels, mamma?” 

“Yes, the squirrels. I think Mr. Chippy 
and his little mate gathered those nuts and 
laid them away for the winter with the great- 
est care. I can hear Chip say, ^See what a 
fine supply we shall have this winter for our 
four babies.’ ” 

“Now they won’t have any,” and Stanley’s 
voice was most sober. 


52 


STANLEY AND THE SQUIRRELS. 


“If you find another squirreFs storehouse, 
remember the hungry babies that must be 
fedF^ 

Just then the little boy’s nurse came to call 
him to supper. 

The next morning Stanley was seen trotting 
down the avenue dragging his cart behind 
him. About half an hour later he ran in to 
his mamma with such a happy face. “I put 
every single nut back,” he cried, with dancing 
eyes. “Now the squirrel babies won’t be 
hungry, will they? Wasn’t it a good plan, 
mamma?” 

“A very good plan, I think,” replied mamma. 

“Wouldn’t it be a good plan to put some 
corn in the hole, too?” 

“An excellent plan, Stanley. Ask Jonas 
to give you half a dozen of the small ears.” 

So Stanley added the corn to the squirrel’s 
hoard. One day he saw Mr. Chippy on the 
bough overhead with a piece of the cob be- 
tween his little paws. A bright-eyed squirrel 
came down near him, and the two chattered 
away: — 


STANLEY AND THE SQUIRRELS. 


63 


“See that kind little boy down there, my 
dear. He is the one who put our nuts back 
and gave us this delicious corn.” 

This is what mamma thought the squirrel 
might have said. 


A STORY IN A CUP OF COCOA. 


BY ALICE MAY DOUGLAS. 

‘T never saw such an old world as this 
is,” said Miles. “Seems to me IVe heard 
all the stories there are in this world, and 
I^d like to move to another. Why, I know 
the whole of Mother Goose, and I can say 
almost every story in our reader by heart.” 

“Why, Miles, I am surprised,” exclaimed 
mamma. “This world is full of stories. 
You can find a story in everything in this 
world. Suppose you begin with the cup of 
cocoa you are drinking?” 

“But, mamma, that canT tell me a story,” 
laughed Miles. 

“0 no, replied mamma, “but I can tell 
you the story. It is this. One beautiful 
morning a sweet boy baby came to live in 
this world. He came to a home in Venezuela. 
That very day his papa was starting a cocoa 


A STORY IN A CUP OF COCOA. 


55 


plantation. He planted the beans from which 
he was to get his cocoa in a nursery — not in 
the baby’s nursery, but in a place where 
young plants spend their first years, until they 
are old enough to go out into the world. 

^^As the papa placed plantain leaves over 
the cocoa beans, he said, ^Ah, here is a bean 
which I have not planted yet. I will plant 
this bean by itself and call it baby’s plant. I 
will see which grows the faster, baby or the 
plant.’ 

^^Seven days later the baby’s papa visited 
the nursery and saw that the cocoa bean had 
sprouted. He also visited baby’s nursery and 
he declared that baby smiled at him. The 
plant and the baby are both growing very 
fast,’ he said. 

^Two years later the papa was holding 
baby one day and the darling jumped out of 
his arms and rushed into the garden. The 
pet is quite a child now,’ said the papa. ^Of 
course, I can’t keep him in one place. I sup- 
pose my cocoa plant wants to be moving about 
also, now that it is two years old. I will go 
and see it.’ 


66 


A STORY IN A CUP OF COCOA. 


“So the papa took baby’s cocoa plant and 
all the other cocoa plants, and planted them 
out of doors. 

“He watered them carefully for two years 
and a half; then they began to blossom. 
And the finest blossoms were on baby’s plant, 
or rather on baby’s tree. 

“Four months later the blossoms turned 
into fruit. In due time baby’s papa gathered 
the fruit. It was about an inch long and of a 
violet color. The fruit had white meat and 
contained twenty-five seeds. Baby had the 
first cup of cocoa that was made from those 
seeds, and who knows but that you are drink- 
ing the last?” 

“Perhaps I am,” said Miles 


POLLY^S CLOCK. 


BY MARY C. SOULE. 

This clock was areal friend to little Polly, 
and probably you suppose it was in her 
home. But no, it was not one of those little 
mantel clocks that tick so very fast that they 
seem to say, not ^Tick, tick,’^ but ^^quick, 
quick, or ^Time flies, time is passing’’; 
neither was it a tall old-fashioned clock, much 
taller than Polly herself, with a round rosy 
face and large figures which tell the time; 
neither was it a clock with a cuckoo coming 
out every hour. This friend of Polly’s was 
on the steeple of a town hall near her house, 
and the hands were so large and the figures 
so clear that one could see the time even if he 
were off on the hills which surrounded the 
town. And at night an electric light burned 
behind the clock-face and made the figures as 
plain as in the daytime. 


58 


POLLY’S CLOCK. 


Polly’s friend saw much that was going on 
in the world, for the town hall stood oppo- 
site the church and behind the church was a 
large schoolhouse. When the hands pointed 
to twelve o’clock, such a troop of noisy chil- 
dren as passed up the street And on Sun- 
day when the church bell began to toll, the 
clock looked down on old and young, going 
to the service. Early in the morning on week 
days, came men with dinner pails going to 
their work, and sometimes at noon boys and 
girls carried these pails to their fathers, in the 
shops, that they might have a warm dinner. 

In winter the sleighs went flying by right 
under the clock, and the bells tinkled merrily 
as if to say: 'We can make music, too, old 
clock, even if we can’t make it every hour.” 

In the summer the carriages passed under 
the clock, the horses with their fly nets on, 
while the sun poured down on the peoples’ 
heads. The clock seemed to Polly to say: 
"Never mind. Black Beauties, when my 
hands point straight down at you, at half-past 
six, the air will be cooler.” 


POLLY’S CLOCK. 


59 


The bank was next to the town hall, and 
so the clock saw money going in and out, al- 
though, of course, it couldnT see the bank- 
bills and the silver dollars that the people put 
in their pockets. Every Thursday morning a 
team came from one of the factories and car- 
ried away a big bag of money, which was to 
be paid to the workmen. 

Polly used to watch all these things that the 
clock saw, and she would look up to see what 
it was thinking about; for to Polly, with her 
childish imagination, the clock seemed a real 
person, and its round glass face was her 
friend’s face. 

If you have never seen an illuminated 
clock, you would have been surprised indeed 
to look from the window in the evening and 
see the dark street, the stars up above, and 
between them this round face hung in mid- 
air. 

Now Polly, as I told you, had much imag- 
ination. Perhaps she had a little more than 
most children. She saw many things in her 
mind; and the longer she watched the clock, 
the more friendly it grew to her. If she so far 


60 


POLLY’S CLOCK. 


forgot herself as to make up a face when the 
weather was stormy and she could not go out 
to play, she would look up at the clock, and 
his calm face seemed to say: ^Tor shame, 
Polly, you making up a face at this nice rain, 
which is going to make your flower seeds 
grow and your papa’s lettuce come up! For 
shame to put on a pouting face because you 
can’t go out! What do you think of me? 
I can never go down in the street to look 
carefully at the pigeons picking up their 
crumbs. I^always have to look at them from 
away up here, and you can do as much as that 
to-day by looking out of your window. Why, 
you can stand at your window and see enough 
to make any girl happy. Suppose that I 
should put on a wry face because I am out in 
the rain with the drops splashing against my 
face, what would you think, and what would 
the children think, as they hurried along to 
school?” 

This was a long speech for the clock to 
make, and Polly was glad that it stopped to 
strike the hour, for she felt a little ashamed 
of herself, and, by the time the clock had 
finished striking, her face had cleared. 


POLLY’S CLOCK. 


61 


One day little Polly could not see her old 
friend as she looked out of the window. Noth- 
ing had happened to the clock, I can assure 
you. The trouble was with Polly herself. 
Her eyes were full of tears, and yet, if you 
had known what was the matter, you could 
not have felt so very, very sorry for her; 
for though Polly was usually a brave girl and 
seldom lost her temper, to-day she was crying 
more for temper than for sorrow. 

No, the old clock looked as kind and ami- 
able as ever, and yet Polly did not see her 
friend. If she had, I am sure it would have 
brought back her better self at once. Polly 
only cried and cried, and complained about 
her seat-mate at school, who had done some- 
thing which made Polly angry. It was only a 
slight thing, but Polly let it fret her; and the 
more she thought about it the worse she felt. 

But her friend, the clock, was to be the 
good angel to bring her to herself. While 
Polly had been crying it had been growing 
dark, and, as she wiped her eyes and happened 
to look toward the window, the face of the 
clock became bright from the electric light 


62 


POLLY'S CLOCK, 


behind it, and Polly clapped her hands with 
delight. ‘Why, you dear old friend! What 
am I thinking of? Crying in this way, and 
you seeing me! I^m ashamed indeed,’^ and 
Polly wiped her face and tried to smile. ^^And 
I know what you are going to say to me, old 
clock, she added. “You want me to go and 
make up with my seat-mate, and I mean to, 
at once.^’ 

And as if to say yes the clock struck one 
for the half hour. 

“I knew you would say yes,’’ said Polly, 
“and you are a friend worth having, for 
your face always seems to show me the 
brightest side of everything.” 


THE SQUIRRELS’ HARVEST. 

BY MARY E. McALLISTER. 

Little Marjorie came running into the 
house one cold November morning, her 
cheeks aglow and her eyes big with wonder. 

'^Oh, mamma!” she cried, “what do you 
think? I saw a dear little squirrel out in the 
woods picking up beechnuts, and he ate them 
whole, mamma, and then ran away as fast as 
he could. What made him do so?” 

Mamma smiled at her daughter, and said: 
“Marjorie, if you will take off your bonnet 
and cloak we will sit by the fire, and I will 
tell you a story about the squirrels.” 

So Marjorie ran to put away her wraps, 
and in a few minutes was cozily cuddled in 
mamma’s lap to listen. 

“Out in the woods,” began mamma, “in a 
hollow tree, is a little house where lives a very 


64 


THE SQUIRRELS* HARVEST. 


happy family consisting of Papa Squirrel, 
Mamma Squirrel, and their two children, Fly 
and Fleet. The door of their house is a hole 
in the side of the tree, and just inside they 
have a cozy parlor carpeted with the softest 
leaves, and a storehouse where they store away 
food for the long winter. 

‘^All through the summer Papa and Mamma 
Squirrel with Fly and Fleet played merrily in 
the woods, running on the ground, climbing 
trees, jumping about on the branches and 
scampering very fast to their snug home at 
the sound of dogs or mischievous boys. At 
night they slept safe and warm on the soft 
carpet of their parlor. And so the weeks and 
months of summer passed quickly by and au- 
tumn came. 

^^One morning Papa Squirrel went out to 
take a run before breakfast. He found some- 
thing white spread over the ground; the air 
was not soft and warm but raw and chilly, 
and it stung his toes as he ran along. So he 
hurried home and said to Mamma ^Squirrel: 
‘My dear. Jack Frost has come, and we must 
all go to work with a will, for he has shaken 


THE SQUIRRELS’ HARVEST. 


G5 


the nuts from the trees, and if we do not 
gather them before he brings the snow, we 
shall have nothing to eat during the cold win- 
ter. The ground is covered with frost al- 
ready.’ 

^^So, after they had breakfasted on a few 
old nuts, ,Papa Squirrel, Mamma Squirrel, 
Fly, and Fleet, started gayly out to find their 
winter’s store of food. They did not need to 
carry bags, as you have to do when you go 
nutting, for right inside their cheeks were lit- 
tle pockets made on purpose to carry nuts. 
They all scampered to the nearest nut tree, 
and each squirrel worked busily until he had 
filled his pockets just as full as he could, and 
his cheeks stuck out big and round on either 
side; then he ran and emptied the nuts from 
his pockets in a pile on the ground in front of 
his house. Then with his sharp teeth he 
gnawed the hard shell from the nuts and put 
the clean white meats away in the little store- 
house. 

^^So they all worked busily till the sun 
sank low in the west, and they were so tired 
that they were glad to go into their house and 
sleep soundly till the morning. 


66 


tTHE SQUIRRELS’ HARVEST. 


“Many days' through the chilly autumn 
they worked, until at last their storehouse was 
filled with walnuts and beechnuts, and Papa 
Squirrel said: ^Now we have enough food 
to last through the winter and we can rest.’ 

“That very night Papa Squirrel waked from 
his sleep and heard the wind blowing, and 
thought to himself, Ve shall soon have snow’ ; 
and, sure enough, when he went to the door 
to look out in the morning the ground was 
covered with snow, snowflakes were flying in 
the air and the wind was blowing a big drift 
right up in front of their door. 

“ ^Oh!’ said Mamma Squirrel, T’m so glad 
we have gathered our nuts.’ ^Yes,’ said Papa, 
^and we are warm and comfortable. Now we 
can take a long nap and when we wake up 
hungry we shall have plenty to eat.’ 

“And Fly and Fleet danced about on the 
soft leaf carpet of their parlor, and cried: 
'What a nice home we have’! ” 

Little Marjorie lifted two shining eyes to 
mamma’s when the story was finished, and 
said: “That was such a nice story, mamma. 


THE SQUIRRELS’ HARVEST. 


67 


I did not know that the squirrels had a home. 
Does the good Father, who gives me my home, 
take care of the squirrels too?’’ 

^^Yes,” said Mamma, ^^God cares for every- 
thing that He has made.” 

^^And the squirrel that I saw in the woods 
was putting the beechnuts into his pockets to 
take home. Isn’t it funny?” said Marjorie. 


THE ROBINS’ HOME. 


BY EVELYN LINCOLN. 

One day in the springtime, when the little 
flowers were waking up, Mr. Robin called 
to Mrs. Robin who was sitting high up in the 
apple tree. He said: ''Come let’s sing a 
song, and then begin to build a nest in this 
apple tree.” 

The song was full of sweet notes and dainty 
trills, and Mr. Robin ended with "cheer up, 
cheer up.” 

Then they flew all around the tree to find 
the safest place for their little home. 

"No, this place will not do,” sang Mrs. 
Robin, "for it is too low. It is cozy,” turn- 
ing her gray head about, "but the cats can 
come up here.” 

Another place that Mr. Robin liked was too 
far out on a branch, where the wind could 
blow their nest off on the ground. Such a 


THE ROBINS’ HOME. 


69 


pretty place as they chose at last, not too far 
out on a branch 

They had a beautiful time building the little 
home. They looked all over the fields for 
twigs and dried leaves. They flew to the 
barnyard near the apple orchard, and found 
ever so many long horsehairs that had come 
out of Tom^s and Dobbin’s tails. In the 
farmhouse yard they got some nice feathers 
and pieces of string, and from the woods some 
moss. All these things they carried, one by 
one, in their strong bills to the tree, working 
and tugging away until the nest was done. 

Oh, how soft and round and cozy it was! 
The sticks, leaves, and string made the out- 
side firm and strong. The horsehair, woven 
round and round, with the moss and feathers 
in it, made the inside nice and warm for 
Mother Bird, and for something else that came 
in it one day. If we could have looked in the 
little home that day, we should have seen three 
pretty little blue eggs, lying close together. 

Mr. and Mrs. Robin were very happy. Mrs. 
Robin would not leave the nest, but sat on the 
eggs to keep them warm, while Mr. Robin sat 


70 


THE ROBINS’ HOME. 


near her on the tree and sang his sweetest 
song. Then he spread his wings and flew away 
over ;fche tree tops. When he came back he 
had something nice in his mouth for Mother 
Bird to eat. Sometimes Father Bird sat in the 
nest so that Mother could stretch her wings 
and fly away through the air. 

One day when Mother Robin was on the 
nest, she heard a faint ^^peep, peep!’' and 
looking down saw a little bird under her 
warm breast. Soon came another ^^peep, 
peep!” and a second little bird was out. Then 
she heard a gentle tap, tap against the shell of 
the third egg; so she tapped on the outside of 
it, and out came a very small bird. She cud- 
dled them under her, nice and warm, for they 
were not very strong and she did not wish 
them to catch cold. 

But in a little while they began to grow 
stronger, because their father and mother had 
taken good care of them. They began to 
move about and tried to hop while in the nest, 
but they fell over each other; so finally one 
day, Harry, who had come out of the shell 
and said “peep, peep!” first, said “peep, 
peep!” again very loud. 


THE ROBINS’ HOME. 


71 


“Oh, don’t,’’ exclaimed Fluffy, the last one 
out. “You will fall.” 

You see Harry meant to tell his brother and 
sister that he was going to hop up on the side 
of the nest. Up he went, and back he fell 
into the nest; for he had looked down 
through the leaves on the tree to the ground. 
Oh! it seemed miles and miles away, and 
made him dizzy. 

The next day he wanted to try again. So 
he and Reddy hopped up and out on the 
branch. Poor little sister Fluffy was fright- 
ened and screamed, '^peep, peep, peep!” 

The two brothers had just stretched their 
wings out to “try to fly like father.” 

“Wait a few days, little birds,” Mother 
said. “Your wings are not strong enough 
yet.” 

They hopped back into the little home 
again, and father brought Fluffy a pretty red 
cherry to eat. 

Soon after this all three hopped out, but 
when a big dog said “bow wow,” under the 
tree, they went back again as fast as they 
could go. When Mother Bird came home that 


72 


THE ROBINS’ HOME. 


day, she sat on the edge of the nest and told 
her children that they must learn to use their 
wings. The dog had gone into the house, the 
cats were not in sight, and now was a good 
time to try. 

Father Bird sat on the other side of the nest 
and showed them how to raise their wings to 
beat against the air. Harry was out first; he 
raised his wings and let himself go. Down 
he fell on the lower branch. 

^Dh! it was such fun,’’ he called out, ^To 
feel yourself going through the air.” 

Reddy and Fluffy were not in so much 
haste, and learned to fly sooner than Harry, 
who tried again, and landed on the ground 
beneath the apple tree. 

Father and Mother Bird shrieked, ^^cheep, 
cheep,” which meant, ^^Lift your wings and 
come back quickly.” 

They flew down to him and begged him to 
try; but poor little Harry was so tired that he 
could not stir. 

^Dh dear!” said mother, ^What shall we 
do?” 


THE ROBINS’ HOME. 


73 


Just then a big man came into the orchard, 
and, hearing the birds call, he looked to see 
what was the trouble. He found Harry on 
the grass. The poor birds were more fright- 
ened than ever. But, lifting the little bird 
very gently, the man put him on a branch of 
the home tree. When he was rested he flew 
up to the nest again. Father, mother, Reddy, 
and Fluffy were so glad to have him home 
again that they sang and peeped. He then 
cuddled down in the warm nest and was soon 
fast asleep. 


GRANDMA’S THANKSGIVING STORY. 


BY ALICE LOTHERINGTON. 

It was getting toward bedtime in the house 
on the hill, and the children had gathered 
about the fire, for a talk with grandma before 
going to bed. 

'^Listen,” said Willie, ^^how the wind 
blows down the chimney. I think Jack Frost 
must be out to-night.” Just then Jane came 
in to put coal on the fire, and told the little 
folks it was snowing. ^^Hurrah!” cried 
Joey, ^Ve’ll have snow for Thanksgiving. 
Won’t that be jolly?” 

^^Boys,” said sister Nettie, as she looked at 
the clock, '^only twenty minutes more before 
bedtime; if we don’t look out it will be too 
late for grandma’s story, and you know we 
don’t want to miss that.” 

“Indeed we don’t,” said the boys, and they 
drew their chairs closer, while little Bess nes- 
tled in grandma’s lap. 


GRANDMA’S THANKSGIVING STORY. 


75 


^What shall the story be about, dears?^^ 
asked grandma. 

Thanksgiving story, please,’’ answered 
Joey, ^^a really and truly one.” 

‘T’ll tell you about a Thanksgiving long, 
long ago,” said grandma, after a minute’s 
thought. ^^Were there any little boys and 
girls in the story?” asked Bess. Grandma 
nodded. 

“Once upon a time, many years ago, there 
were a number of people who lived in a coun- 
try called England. These people, Puritans 
they were called, were not happy in their old 
home, so they thought that they would come 
over the big ocean and make another home for 
themselves, in the new world, which a man 
named Christopher Columbus had discovered 
a long time before. The name of the new 
country was America. Now these people had 
two ships named ^Speedwell’ and ^May- 
flower,’ in which they were to sail across the 
ocean to their new home. 

“Just as they were about to start, it was 
found that the ^Speedwell’ was not fit to go 
so far, so all the people had to go in the 
Mayflower.’ 


76 


GRANDMA’S THANKSGIVING STORY. 


^^One beautiful morning in September, after 
bidding their friends good-by, the little band 
set sail in the 'Mayflower/ 

"For four long months they were upon the 
ocean, but at last they landed on the shore of 
Massachusetts, in December, 1620. 

"It was bitter cold, so the men left the 
women and children on the ship while they 
went on land to build log houses for their 
families to live in. 

"When springtime came the people planted 
corn; but they planted too soon, and Jack 
Frost came, pinched the tin^y shoots just com- 
ing out of the ground, and the corn died. 

"Still our friends kept cheerful and made 
the best of what they had, for they knew there 
was a big ship coming from England with 
more corn and good things on board. 

"But the ship did not come, and the store 
of food got less and less. 

"How the people watched for that ship! 
Little children would go down to the shore, 
shade their eyes with their hands and look far 
over the water, to see if the ship was coming. 



The children looked out over the water to see if 
the ship was coming. 




GRANDMA’S THANKSGIVING STORY. 


77 


‘^One morning some one spied a white sail in 
the distance, which grew larger and larger, 
and at last came to anchor in their harbor. 
How happy the people were, for it was the 
ship which they had been looking for so long. 
There would be plenty to eat now. 

^^The Governor had the church bell rung, 
and all the people, big and little, gathered to- 
gether and gave thanks to God for sending 
food to them. 

^^You may be sure that there were good 
dinners cooked that day, and all the boys and 
girls had as much as they could eat. 

^^When the next spring came, the people 
were careful not to plant the corn too soon, so 
Jack Frost could not hurt it, and in the fall 
they reaped a good harvest, and had plenty of 
corn for the next winter.” 

'Is that a really and truly story, grandma?” 
asked Bess. 

^^Yes, dear,” answered grandma. 

'Ts that the reason we keep Thanksgiving 
to-morrow?” said Joey. 

^^Not exactly,” replied grandma; ^The 
President of the United States tells the people 


78 


GRANDMA’S THANKSGIVING STORY. 


to have a Thanksgiving on the last Thursday 
in November, to thank God for the harvest, 
and all the blessings He has given to us for 
the past year. • 

^^But, little folks, the clock is going to 
strike nine, so give grandma a kiss and away 
to bed, and dream of the good time you will 
have to-morrow with your cousins, for you 
know they are coming to spend Thanksgiving 
with you.” 


THE SONG THEY ALL SANG. 


BY ANNA H. LITTELL. 

Down in “the meadow where all the long 
day ten little frolicsome lambs are at play,” 
lived a happy little river. It was very busy 
all day long, and even at nighttime it did 
not stop to sleep. It was so busy doing kind 
things and helping others, always giving of 
its water drops to thirsty roots of trees and 
flowers, that it never grew tired. 

It was in this river that Speckle, Splasher, 
and Shiner, three happy little fishes, lived. 
They loved their home, for the cool, shining 
water drops were such nice playmates, as they 
came rushing down the river all ready for a 
race and singing all the time, “Help help! 
help!” They loved to sing that song, for 
they had learned it so well. When the fishes 
heard the song they tried to sing it, too. 


80 


THE SONG THEY ALL SANG. 


On the bank of the river lived a family of 
beautiful frogs. They loved to play with the 
water drops, too^ and sang just as happy songs. 
Every night all the frogs by the river had a 
concert. Each frog had a shining green coat, 
and a clean white vest. Sometimes the little 
frogs would jump from the bank where they 
were singing, and splash into the water. Then 
they would leap back all ready to sing another 
song. 

Down near the bank where the frogs lived, 
were some families of violets, buttercups, dan- 
delions, and cowslips. They had slept 'safe 
and warm during the winter, and when they 
heard the river, the frogs, and the bluebirds 
singing, they waked up to smile and grow. 

The little lambs in the meadows were very 
glad to see their friends again. They loved 
to run and play about the meadow and lie 
down on the green grass. 

One morning Ernest and Ruth came out 
to the meadow with a little boat and a water 
wheel. The lambs were having ^uch a fine 
frolic that Ernest and Ruth ran, too. They 
went down to one corner of the meadow where 


THE SONG THEY ALL SANG. 


81 


a little stream of water was busy hurrying its 
water drops to the river. It was such a little 
brook that Ruth could easily step across it. 

It was a nice place to sail her boat. Ernest 
fastened his wheel, so that the water ran over 
it and turned it swiftly around. While they 
were busy, the little brook sang all the time 
and ran on very fast, giving a refreshing 
drink to all the violets and buttercups that 
lived near. It sang the same song that the 
river sang, ^^Help! help! help!^^ 

^^I think I know why mother says the river 
sings ^Help! help! help! all the timeV^ said 
Ruth. “It does help every one it meets. 
It helps the flowers grow. It gives the lambs, 
the fishes, and the frogs a drink. It carries 
the boats and all the people in them. It 
turns the wheel down at the mill over there. 
Listen! I think the wheel is singing the 
same song, 'Help! help! help!' only it sings 
it louder than this little brook. I'd like to 
learn that song too." 

Ernest and Ruth went home and they did 
sing that song. 


82 


THE SONG THEY ALL SANG. 


Ernest took his little red watering can and 
gave a drink to the plants on a shelf by the 
window, while Ruth helped her mother, who 
was busy in the sewing room. 

Then both went to the garden and planted 
some seeds and pulled up every little weed 
they saw. Then they tried to think of some- 
thing else that would help. Soon Ernest 
clapped his hands and jumped, saying, “Oh, 
I know what to do. Mother is too busy to 
come out to the meadow to see the flowers. 
We can bring them to the house to live with 
her. She will be glad to see them.^’ 

Ernest found a wooden box and took it 
with them to the meadow while Ruth carried 
a little trowel. They looked around to find a 
big family of violets. With the trowel they 
gently lifted the whole family and planted 
them carefully in the box. They carried 
them home and put them by the window 
beside the sewing machine. 

When mother came in and saw them she 
was very glad. She knew what song Ernest 
and Ruth were learning to sing. She called 
them and said: “Did you hear what the 


THE SONG THEY ALL SANG. 


83 


flowers said when you brought them here?’’ 
“Why, no, mother, they did not talk at all.” 
“But,” said Mother, “they did talk to me; 
they are very still when they talk. If you 
listen and think carefully, you will learn to 
hear and understand what they say.” 

Ernest and Ruth watched the flowers every 
day and kept singing their song of “Help! 
help! help!” One morning they found the 
pretty purple dresses of the violets very much 
faded and curled. Ruth said, “Oh, mother, 
the violets are almost dead, and I have not 
found out what they say yet. Come and look 
at them.” 

Mamma looked with her at them and picked 
up one little violet whose faded dress had 
dropped away. “See,” said her mother, 
“what a nice, little green jacket this violet 
has. It is not dead. See its little eye look- 
ing at us. It is getting ready to go to sleep. 
It goes to bed very early. It does not need 
its purple dress any more. It will surely 
wake up in the spring next year, and have a 
new dress. Every time it wakes up from its 
long nap it has a new dress. When it wakes 
up, you can watch it again and listen to find 
out what it says.” 


FLOWER FAIRIES. 


BY ANNA H. LITTELL. 

One bright morning in May, a little eight- 
year-old boy was wheeling a baby cab along 
in the sunshine. His baby brother Roy was 
having a happy time in the cab. When he 
waked from his morning nap mamma had 
asked Ernest to help her by taking baby Roy 
riding, while little Ruth helped her at home. 

After a long ride in the sunshine, Ernest 
pushed the cab under the shade of a large tree 
near the stream where his water wheel was 
fastened, and sat down on a large stone by the 
bank of the stream. 

Baby Roy was fast asleep, and it was so 
quiet Ernest felt quite alone out under the 
trees all by himself. He looked at the violets 
and buttercups near his feet, smiling at him; 
then he watched the water rushing along so 
swiftly down the stream. He saw some shin- 
ing little fishes swimming, and one jumped up 


FLOWER FAIRIES. 


85 


from the water and then fell back again. 
Then two frogs with shining green coats 
leaped from some hiding-place and stood look- 
ing at him with their bright little eyes. Near 
them he saw a big white snail moving slowly, 
carrying its pretty shell house along with it 
on its back. 

The violets, the fishes, the frogs, and the 
snail were all so quiet! Ernest said aloud, 
wish you could all talk to me; I have so many 
questions I would like to ask you, and, if you 
could talk, we should have such good times.” 

Just then a bluebird on a branch above 
Ernestos head sang such a glad song that 
the little boy thought the bluebird had under- 
stood what he said, and was speaking to him. 
He said, “Good morning, Mr. Bluebird, is 
your home in this tree?” Then the bluebird 
flew far up in the tree, and there Ernest 
saw a little nest fastened to the tree. Mamma 
bird was there and three little birds. 

Two bushy tails rushed up the tree, and 
Ernest saw two brown squirrels run into a 
hole in the tree and then turn around and 
look at him. “0,” he said, “what a nice 


FLOWER FAIRIES. 


little door you have to your house! I think 
you have a pretty good home in that tree. I 
wonder if your name is Bushy Tail, and if 
you are the squirrel that gathered nuts for the 
poor, lame squirrel who had no nuts. I wish 
you could talk to me.” 

Then the squirrel began to chatter, but 
Ernest did not understand all he said. 

Baby Roy awoke, and while Ernest wheeled 
him through the sunshine, a little leaf flew 
down and Roy clapped his hands with delight. 
Then a bird flew down and stood still for an 
instant right in front of Roy, and he laughed 
again to see birdie come to visit him. 

When they reached home mamma said 
^ ^Ernest, what did you do to make Roy so 
happy?” 

^^0, mamma, it was the bird and the leaf 
and the sunshine that made him so glad. He 
thought they came just to visit him. He 
laughed just as if they were talking to him. 
Do you think they did talk to him, mamma? I 
wish they could talk. IVe so many questions 
which I should like to ask them.” 


FLOWER FAIRIES. 


87 


Mamma said, “When I was out in the gar- 
den I saw a fairy in every flower, and they 
talked to me. The fairies in the flowers out 
in the woods will speak to you, if you will 
look and listen.^^ So Ernest ran out by the 
stream again to find the fairies. 

He looked closely at every flower to And the 
fairy in it and thought, “I wonder what 
mamma meant.” Then he began gathering 
a bouquet of flowers to take home to mamma. 
Then he thought, “Ifll gather a big, big bou- 
quet, and ask papa to take it with him to the 
city tomorrow for those little children who 
have no flowers, but love them so.” When he 
took them home, mamma said, “Did you And 
the fairies?” “I think I did,” said Ernest, 
“and they said our ^Garden verse^ to me — 


‘Kind hearts are the gardens, 
Kind thoughts are the roots, 

Kind words are the flowers. 
Kind deeds are the fruits. 

Take care of your garden 
And keep out the weeds; 

Fill, fill it with sunshine. 

Kind words and kind deeds. 

Love is glad sunshine, 

God sends every hour ; 

Shines away all darkness, 

And wakens each flower.' 


88 


FLOWER FAIRIES. 


^^Every violet and buttercup seemed to say 
to me, ^Take me where I can help make some 
one glad/ It made me think of so many 
things I might do to make the flowers grow in 
my kind heart garden. I thought how God 
sent sunshine to make flowers grow in the 
woods and in our heart gardens, too. If love is 
glad sunshine, then love wakes up all kinds of 
flowers and helps all good things grow/’ 

When papa came home, Ernest met him 
with a smiling face, and told him all about 
the fairies he had found in the flowers. 


THE TULIP’S STORY 


BY HOPE DARLING. 

Of my early days I have only a faint re- 
membrance. As I nestled in my bed of 
moist brown earth, surrounded by my 
brothers, sisters, and cousins, I learned that 
there was a beautiful upper world which I 
should one day see. 

That day came much sooner than I ex- 
pected. A pair of chubby hands dug around 
us, and I and a dozen other young bulbs were 
suddenly lifted up into the light. 

Oh! what a beautiful place the world is! 
There was the smiling September sky bending 
caressingly over all things. Beautiful flowers 
grew near, while from the grove back of the 
house came the sweet song of a lark. The 
face that bent over me was a dimpled one 
with blue eyes and smiling scarlet lips. 


90 


THE TULIP’S STORY. 


^Why, Myra Erb, what are you doing?’^ 
and another bright faced little girl came across 
the lawn from the street. 

^^Something lovely, Irene; I’ll tell you all 
about it, and you can help if you want to. 
You remember Miss Eaton telling us about 
that little lame girl, Maggie Clegg, don’t you? 
Mamma said if I wanted some pretty presents 
for her and Grandpa Smith and cousin Willie, 
who is always sick, and lots of other folks, I 
could take up some of these tulips and hya- 
cinth bulbs.” 

'^Are you going to put them in those?” 
Irene asked, pointing to a row of tin cans 
which had been freshly painted. 

^^Yes, papa painted them for me. I^n’t it 
nice?” 

^^Of course,” Irene’s tone was a little doubt- 
ful. “My mamma always plants bulbs, but 
she sends away and gets nice ones, and puts 
them in pretty pots.” 

“Yes,” Myra nodded her head. “I haven’t 
money to do that. So I will give the very 
best I’ve got. If the flowers are pretty and 
there is lots of love goes with them don’t you 
think it will be better than doing nothing?” 


THE TULIP’S STORY. 


91 


“Indeed I do/’ Irene cried. “I shall be glad 
to help if you want me to.” 

I was planted carefully in*a can of rich earth. 
Then all the cans were placed close together 
under an apple tree in the back yard, and 
straw from the stable was heaped over them. 

At first I was inclined to rebel. But as I 
thought about Myra’s earnest words I began 
to understand the pleasure there is in making 
others happy. I resolved to be content, feel- 
ing that a chance to help in this good work 
might come to me. 

After a time the nights were frosty. We 
shivered even under our warm blanket of 
earth, and were glad when we were carried by 
Myra to a shelf in a dark cellar. 

Here we stayed for many weeks with only 
an occasional watering to relieve the monot- 
ony. However I was aware that changes were 
going on. I knew that I had thrown out 
strong roots, and I was not surprised when, 
on being carried to the sitting room, I was 
found to have sent up a slender green shoot. 

Very pleasant were the days that followed. 
Placed on a shelf in Mrs. Erb’s sitting room I 


92 


THE TULIP’S STORY. 


basked in the sunshine. Then I enjoyed 
the happy home life that was lived around the 
open coal fire. I was so impressed with the 
kindly, helpful spirit of the family that I tried 
hard to grow and so fulfill Myra’s expecta- 
tions. 

You may judge of my delight when I heard 
her tell Irene, who often came to see how we 
prospered, that I was budded. The next day 
I was to be taken to lame Maggie as an Easter 
gift. 

I was so carefully wrapped for my ride that 
I did not feel the keen air. My first feeling 
when I reached my new home was one of dis- 
appointment; the room looked so bare and 
shabby. But when I saw Maggie’s thin, pale 
face glow with delight at the sight of my rich 
green leaves and large bud, I forgot every- 
thing but her happiness. 

I was placed on the window-sill where the 
sunshine could reach me. After Maggie had 
been told how to care for me, the two little 
girls sat down and Myra told the sweet story 
of the Eastertide. I listened reverently and 


THE TULIP’S STORY. 


93 


learned of a wondrous life freely given for 
others. 

Maggie slept late on Easter morning. When 
she was dressed she limped across the room to 
my side. Oh, I was so happy! For, on the 
top of my tall, green stem was opened a 
cup-shaped flower, whose pale, yellow petals 
were barred and dashed with spots of vivid 
crimson. 


THE FOOLISH PEACH BLOSSOM. 


BY HELEN E. WRIGHT. 

Little Peach Blossom lived in a big, brown 
house in- the very center of a queer old or- 
chard. There were so many of the Blossom 
children and they all looked so very much 
alike that scarcely any one but their own 
mother could tell them apart. 

They kept her very busy, too, for there 
were all the dainty little pink dresses to be 
made every Springtime, and all the suits of 
red and yellow and gold to be worn in the 
summer days when all the little blossoms had 
grown out of blossomhood into great velvety 
peaches. Then, too, there were the little 
brown nightcaps to be made ready for the long 
Winter’s nap, when the sweet dreams came. 

After the blossoms had been sleeping a 
long, long while, there came a day when a 
strange thing happened. How it ever came 


THE FOOLISH PEACH BLOSSOM. 


95 


about I^m sure I don’t know; but poor little 
Peach Blossom awoke a whole month before 
it was time, and there was the blue sky and 
the orchard trees just as she had left them 
when she went to sleep. 

^^Oh,” cried Blossom, ^^it is Spring!” 

''Not yet,” sighed the tree. "Lie still.” 

"Not yet,” murmured the wind, and he 
set all the little brown cradles rocking again. 

"Sleep, sleep, sleep,” chirped a cold little 
chicken underneath the tree. 

But Blossom would not listen. Off came 
her nightcap and down it tumbled to earth, 
and soon she was dancing on a bare brown 
bough, all clad in the sweetest pink. 

But somehow it was lonely there. She 
wished she had not broken the cradle, for the 
other blossoms were still asleep. She wished 
she had not dropped her nightcap, for her ears 
were so cold; and the great rough wind 
tossed her about and tore her dainty skirts. 
Even the cold little chicken was cuddled up 
beneath his mother’s wing. 


96 


THE FOOLISH PEACH BLOSSOM. 


think/’ said one tree to another as the 
shadows deepened, think Jack Frost will 
come to-night.” 

When the sun rose next morning it set 
millions of tiny frost diamonds sparkling in 
its light. 

^^Oh, see!” cried the children. ^^How 
pretty the world looks ! And our old peach tree 
has a whole overcoat of frost. 

But they didn’t see the one foolish little 
blossom hanging dead upon the bough. 


THE LITTLE SEED. 

BY ANNIE E. POUSLAND. 

Far down in Mother Earth a tiny seed 
was sleeping, safely wrapped in a warm, 
brown jacket. The little seed had been 
asleep for a long, long time, and now somebody 
thought it was time for him to wake up. 
This somebody was an earthworm that lived 
close by. He had been creeping about and 
found that all the seeds in the neighborhood 
had roused themselves, and were pushing 
their roots deep down into the earth, and lift- 
ing their heads up, up through the soil into 
the bright sunshine and fresh air. 

So when the worm saw this little seed still 
sleeping, he cried: “Oh, you lazy fellow, 
wake up! All the seeds are awake and grow- 
ing, and you have slept long enough.” 

“But how can I grow or move at all in 
this tight, brown jacket?” said the seed in a 
drowsy tone. 


98 


THE LITTLE SEED. 


“Why, push it off. That’s the way the 
other seeds have done; just move about a ht- 
tle and it will come off.” 

The little seed tried, but the tough jacket 
wouldn’t break; and all the time the worm 
was telling him how happy the other seeds 
were, now that they had lifted their heads 
into the sunshine. 

“Oh dear, oh dear!” said the seed, “what 
shall I do? I can’t break this jacket, and I 
shall never see the beautiful sunshine! Be- 
sides I’m so sleepy I can’t keep awake any 
longer;” and he fell asleep again. 

“The lazy fellow,” thought the earth- 
worm; “but it is strange that the other seeds 
shed their jackets so easily. Who could have 
helped them I wonder?” 

The little seed slept souiidly for a long 
while, but at last he awoke, and found his 
jacket soft and wet, instead of hard and dry, 
and when he moved about it gave way en- 
tirely and dropped off. 

Then he felt so warm and happy that he 
cried, “I really believe I am going to grow 
after all. Who could have helped me take 


THE LITTLE SEED. 


99 


off my jacket? And who woke me, I wonder? 
— for I don’t se<e anyone near by.” 

woke you,” said a soft voice close by. 
^^I’m a sunbeam and I came down to wake 
you; and my friends the raindrops moistened 
your jacket, so that you might find it ready 
to slip off.” 

“Oh, thank you,” said the seed, “you’re 
all very kind. Will you help me to grow 
into a plant, too?” 

“Yes,” said the sunbeam, “I’ll come as 
often as I can to help you, and the raindrops 
will come too; and then, if you work hard, 
with our help you will become a beautiful 
plant, I’m sure.” 

“But,” said the seed, “how did you know 
that I was sleeping here? Could you see 
me?” 

“No,” said the sunbeam, “but my Father 
could. He looked down from his home in 
heaven, and he saw you far beneath the 
earth trying to grow, and he called the rain- 
drops to him and said: ^One of my seed 
children is sleeping down there, and he wants 
to grow. Go down and help him, and tell 


100 


THE LITTLE SEED. 


the sunbeams to follow you and wake the 
seed, so that he may begin to grow as soon as 
he will/ 

^^How kind he is!’^ said the seed. ''If he 
had not seen me sleeping here I should have 
always been a brown seed, I suppose. Who 
is your kind Father?^’ 

"He is your Father, too. He is everyone^s 
Father, and takes care of everybody. Noth- 
ing could live without him.’’ 

"How can I thank him,” said the seed. 

"What could I do that would please him 
very much?” 

"Grow into just the best plant that you 
possibly can,” said the sunbeam, "that will 
please him most of all.” 

So the seed grew into a beautiful vine, that 
climbed higher and higher, towards the 
heavens, from which the Father smiled down 
upon him to reward his labor. 


THE KING OF THE ORCHARD. 


BY HELEN EDWARDS. 

Of all the apple trees in Mr. CampbelPs 
orchard, the robins preferred the Rambo 
on the hill behind the house. It was tall and 
strong, and the rise of the ground was so great 
that they could sit in its branches and see far 
over the tree tops to the turn where the river 
disappeared between the hills. It had more 
blossoms, too, and sweeter ones than the 
others, so the robins thought, and they made 
their homes there for many springs. 

The tree seemed glad that the robins loved 
it, and every year held its head higher and put 
out more leaves that shaded the nests, and, if 
Jack Frost did not nip the flowers, bore better 
fruit each year. 

Mr. CampbelFs little grandchildren often 
played under the trees, and they liked the 
Rambo best, too, and named it ^The King of 


102 


THE KING OF THE ORCHARD. 


the Orchard.’^ They used to watch for the 
robins’ return in the spring, and the birds 
knew that they were friends, and built their 
nests and sang as if nobody was there. 

“When I’m big,” said Kate one day, look- 
ing at the pink and white flowers, “I’U climb 
up there and play I’m a fairy princess with a 
flower garden in the air.” 

“And I’ll be the soldier that guards you,” 
said Dick. “I’ll fly round and round the 
garden on a winged horse and — ” 

“Yes, Dick, a pink horse,” broke in Kate, 
“you can really be riding on a branch covered 
with pink and white flowers, you know.” 

“A pink horse,” shouted Dick, “who ever 
heard of such a thing? My horse is going 
to be black like old Badger, with a white spot 
on his nose.” 

“Fairy horses could be any color,” said 
Kate, “and I want a pink one to match the 
flowers.” 

“All right,” replied Dick, “if you’ll let 
him have green eyes to match the leaves and 
brown legs to match the branches.” 

So the children made their plans, but the 


THE KING OF THE ORCHARD. 


103 


next winter the North wind came rushing 
down the valley with such force that it almost 
snapped the apple tree off at its roots, and 
did tip it over, so that it lay along the side of 
the hill, instead of standing straight up as 
before. 

^'It will have to be taken away in the 
spring,^’ said Mr. Campbell; am sorry to 
lose its fine fruit. 

‘‘Oh, our poor tree!^^ said Kate, “it was 
such a beauty, and what will the robins think 
when they come back and find it gone? I 
hope they will know we did not cut it down.^^ 

Spring was a very different thing that year 
to the injured tree. Though it was not broken 
off completely, and though the sap ran out into 
the branches where it could, the tree felt as 
though it was hardly worth while to put out 
any blossoms down there on the ground. 

Still, it tried to keep the apple tree law, — 
that each one shall do his part for the spring 
flower show. So onp morning when Dick and 
Kate went to look at their old friend, they 
saw, instead of bare, dried up branches, a 
mass of beautiful apple blossoms. 


104 


THE KING OF THE ORCHARD. 


The children clapped their hands for joy 
and ran to bring their grandfather to see it. 
“You^ll let it stay, won’t you, grandfather?” 
said Kate. 

^^Of course I will,” answered Mr. Campbell, 
^^brave old tree!” 

Kate decided that the fairy princess would 
like an apple blossom garden on the ground 
better than up in the air — it was so remark- 
able. And the children had such merry times 
in the branches, that the tree found them even 
better company than the birds. The robins 
built near by and sang to their friends day 
after day; and, as the summer went on, the 
fairy garden, as Kate called it, turned into a 
fairy orchard whose apples were the best of 
the year. 

‘T think our tree is more ^King of the 
Orchard’ than ever, grandfather,” said Dick, 
as he came in, his hat and pockets full of 
fruit. And grandfather said he thought so 
too. 


WHAT THE SUN DID. 

BY C. A. L. 

Back of Farmer Greenes house was a large 
cornfield, and as soon as the frost was out 
of the ground in the Spring, Farmer Green 
came with his horse and his plow to get the 
field ready for planting. 

It did not require very much work, after 
the plowing w'as done, to drop the seed; for 
Farmer Green had a good helper in his little 
daughter Nell. 

Early in the morning, just after breakfast, 
she would fill her apron with corn, and he 
would fill the bag that was slung on his arm, 
and off they would go, dropping a handful of 
kernels, first in this little spot and then in that, 
in regular rows until the whole field had been 
planted. 

Then the warm rain came and the pleas- 
ant sun shone on these little kernels until 


106 


WHAT THE SUN DID. 


each burst open its little coat and sent up a 
shoot of green. 

When the corn was nicely started, the far- 
mer scattered some pumpkin seed in between 
the little hills of corn, and in a very short 
time they had sent out little green leaves and 
a pumpkin vine had begun to grow. 

All this time the good old sun had been 
warming the apple and pear and peach trees, 
and one morning their old brown branches 
were covered with beautiful blossoms. 

How very proud they were of their new 
dresses and sweet perfumes! They could not 
help thinking that the corn looked very plain 
in its work-a-day dress of green, and they 
tossed their heads and looked up at the blue 
sky. Very soon the playful wind saw how 
vain the trees were, and he would come and 
shake a shower of pink petals down into the 
cornfield and then run away again, until at 
last their pretty blossoms were gone and only 
little tiny green fruits were left in their places. 

Then for a long time the trees were as green 
as the corn and the pumpkin vines, and they 
forgot to think how pretty they looked, but 


WHAT THE SUN DID. 


107 


just kept growing day after day and enjoying 
the pleasant warm weather. 

The corn grew so fast that on very still 
nights you could hear it crackle. Soon it 
was all in tassel, and the pumpkin vines had 
big yellow blossoms. 

Then a funny idea came to the little green 
peaches and pears and apples and to the tiny 
little green pumpkins, too. They thought: 
‘‘Now that the sun has been so kind to us 
all summer, kept us warm and bright, and 
smiled at us nearly every day, let us do some- 
thing to help it.’’ So the little green peiaches 
smiled back at the sun, and the apples and 
pears did the same, and the little green 
pumpkins kept getting larger and larger and 
rounder and rounder every day. But they 
took no notice of what the modest grains of 
corn were doing under their green husks. 

When Farmer Green came to his field one 
day, what do you suppose he saw? Each little 
peach was round and yellow like the sun. 
Each harvest apple and pear had taken on 
golden hues, and the pumpkins had tried so 
hard to outdo all the rest that they were of a 


106 


WHAT THE SUN DID. 


deep orange color. On a dark day when 
the rain fairies had hung a curtain in front of 
the old sun, the yellow pumpkins were al- 
most brilliant enough to take its place, — they 
looked so bright and cheerful. The corn, too, 
had not been ungrateful, for within its green 
husks. Farmer Green found that the corn was 
yellow, too. 


THE SWALLOWS^ GOOD-BY. 


BY JOSEPHINE JARVIS 

One pleasant autumn day, Father Swallow 
said to his pretty mate, ^^My dear, it is 
time for us to be getting ready to go south; 
the nights are chilly already and some of us 
will take cold if we do not go where it is 
warmer. There is to be a meeting of swal- 
lows to-day to decide when we shall start.” 

Mother Swallow looked serious at this. 
know we ought to go,” said she, ^‘but I shall 
be sorry to leave those kind children who 
bring bits of bread and meat out here for us to 
eat. To be sure, we can find enough food for 
ourselves, but it is pleasant to have a little 
gift now and then. Do you remember, too, 
the time they tried to make a nest for us? 
They thought it just as good as if a bird had 
made it, but I would not have trusted myself 
— ^to say nothing of our precious eggs and 


110 


THR SWALLOWS’ GOOD-BY. 


baby birds — in such a nest! Besides, I pre- 
fer a nest in the barn. But the children 
meant it all kindly. 

“Indeed they did,’’ said Father Swallow, 
“and I really think that they will be sorry, 
too, about our leaving them; but we shall see 
them again in the spring.” 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Swallow, brightening, 
“and we will not forget them. But, my 
dear, I see that the other swallows are already 
gathering.” 

At this, Mr. Swallow flew off as fast as he 
could go; and that is very fast indeed, as you 
know if you have ever watc'hed a swallow fly. 

When Mr. Swallow came home he told his 
mate that they must start southward the next 
week. 

“I wish we could let those little children 
know that we are going,” said Mrs. Swallow. 
“I think they will find out about it,” Mr. 
Swallow replied. “They are out of doors so 
much that they will see us when we all meet 
together on the barn roof.” 

The children did see the meeting and were 
very much interested. Before joining the 


THE SWALLOWS’ GOOD-BY. 


Ill 


company, Father and Mother Swallow and 
their young ones darted here and there in front 
of the farmhouse, chirping “good by’ and 
the children waved their little hands and 
called out in answer, “Good-by! good-by! 
Come back again in the spring!*' 


THE WILLOW^S WISH. 


BY KATE L. BROWN. 

When the autumn came the Willow tree 
felt sad and uncomfortable. 

It saw the maple in a gorgeous robe of red and 
gold, while the oak stood proudly dressed in 
terra cotta. Even the walnuts and chestnuts 
were fine in garments of sunny brown and gold. 

The Willow sadly rustled its thin foliage 
and sighed bitterly. ‘What an ugly old tree 
I am,’^ it said; “my trunk is clumsy and 
twisted, my branches have no grace. In the 
autumn time when every other tree is fairly 
flaming, my leaves are just a sickly faded 
green. Some, it is true, have a golden edge, 
but that hardly shows. I believe I’ll stop 
growing. When I was younger I did not mind 
my clumsiness so much. Now that I am old 
I see plainly that I am indeed a poor thing.” 

“Oh, dear! oh, dear!” peeped the birds 
perched upon its branches. “Don’t get blue. 


THE WILLOW’S WISH. 


113 


dear old frifend; what should we birds do 
without you? As long as I can remember 
we have rested in your branches on our way 
south every fall, and again in the spring as 
we returned north. No other tree would 
seem so cozy.” 

“Well, I thank you,” said the Willow; 
“that certainly makes me feel better.” 

“Let me say one word,” came from the 
grass below, where a late wild forget-me-not 
was nestling. “We flowers could not do 
without you. You are a strong, grand friend. 
You spread your branches over us, keeping 
away the rough winds. Your leaves drop 
down and cover us with a warm blanket when 
it is time to go to sleep. I’m sure the cows 
in summer would miss your shade, and the 
bees in spring the nectar in your blossoms. 
Would not the children miss you, too? Think 
of the hundreds of whistles that have been 
made from you. Are you tired of being the 
friend of all so many years?” 

“No, no,” said the tree very quickly, “I 
am much ashamed of myself. Please forget 
my grumbling.” 


114 


THE WILLOW’S WISH. 


^^Good-by/’ said the birds; “we will come 
again. Good-by, dear Willow.^' 

“Good-by,” said the forget-me-not; “throw 
down my blanket, for I grow sleepy. Cheer 
up, old friend.” 

When the birds came back in the spring 
the Willow was again clothed in gold. From 
every twig hung its lovely catkins scattering 
their yellow pollen, and filling the air with 
fragrance. 

The early bees were there, having a feast, 
and a whole row of children sat on the fence 
laughing and blowing their newly-made 
whistles. “IsnT the old Willow lovely?” 
said one little girl looking upward. “It is 
all gold,” said another. “See the pollen 
float down! And the bees — they are just 
covered with gold, too.” 

“What did I tell you?” said the birds. 

“Why, this is just my spring dress that I 
have on every year,” said the Willow. “I am 
glad if it is lovely. I believe I did complain 
last fall; it was very foolish.” 

“You are all right,” peeped the birds, “so we 
can leave you, with easy minds. Good-by.” 



“Isn’t the old willow lovely?” said one little girl, 
looking upward. 











A DEAR LITTLE FAMILY. 

BY CAROLYN SHERWIN BAILEY. 

Such a pretty little house as it was away 
up in the old apple tree. Not like our houses, 
oh, no! — for it had not any roof and its 
walls were built of — ^what do you suppose? 
Why, bits of thread and scraps of paper, long 
hairs and dry grasses. When the summer 
wind blew and rocked the branches of the 
tree, you might watch this wee house swinging, 
too. 

Can you guess who lived in this tiny cot- 
tage? Mr. and Mrs. Robin Redbreast, to be 
sure, just home from the south, where they 
had been spending their winter. There was 
a great deal of house cleaning to be done when 
they first came up north for the summer. The 
walls had even to be all built again, — very 
hard work, you may be sure. But at last 
they were all settled and ready for visitors, 


116 


A DEAR LITTLE FAMILY. 


There is something in the nest now; can 
you guess what it is? Something that is 
round and blue and speckled. Yes, they are 
eggs; and Mrs. Redbreast is so happy that 
she sits and sings all day with her wings over 
them to keep them warm. Mr. Redbreast 
is glad, too, for he flies about all day, finding 
nice things for his mate to eat. He starts out 
some mornings even before the sun is up, and 
he picks out worms, berries, and the crumbs 
that kind little friends scatter for him. He 
gets very tired sometimes, but Mrs. Redbreast 
tells him to wait and see what a sweet sur- 
prise she will have for him one of these days. 
I think you can tell what it will be, children. 

By-and-by, those blue eggs will break. 
Out will hop five little baby redbreasts, laugh- 
ing at the funny old world they have come to. 
Then, how happy mamma and papa Robin will 
be! and what hard times they will have teach- 
ing these five babies— not to walk but to fly. 

Five more mouths to feed! but they don't 
mind it, not a bit. And the breezes will blow 
the nest, with its glad family, to and fro in 
the sunshine all summer long. 


HOW WE CUT APRICOTS. 


BY EVELYN HIBBARD. 

My little friend Reginald lives on a big 
ranch in California, where apricots and so 
many other good things grow. 

One day last July I asked Reginald which 
he liked best, the city or the country. 

^^The country,’^ said he, promptly. 

^^And why?’’ said I. 

^ ^Because there are so many applecuts in 
the country,’’ answered Reginald. “I forget 
the other reasons.” 

He was very busy making what he said 
was a chicken coop. 

That afternoon Reginald took me out to 
the apricot orchard. 

There was a long open shed, which stood on 
the edge of the orchard; and under this shed 
were men and women and a great many boys 
and girls, cutting the apricots for drying. 


118 


HOW WE CUT APRICOTS. 


The children, especially, seemed to find the 
work very pleasant, for their tongues fiew as 
fast as their fingers and every now and then 
there was a merry peal of laughter. They 
cut the apricots in halves, and laid them care- 
fully in large wooden trays. 

Reginald and I thought that we should like 
to help. 

So we each took a little knife and sat down 
at one of the tables, with a box of apricots 
between us. Reginald’s nimble little fingers 
found no trouble in keeping up with me. We 
each cut a whole tray full, and then we went 
to see our apricots sulphured. 

The trays of fruit were put on a tiny car, 
and the car was pushed along a tiny railway 
to a big box that had burning sulphur in it. 
Then the trays of apricots were placed in the 
box, and left there for a few moments shut 
up|tight with the burning sulphur. 

^^They do that to make the applecuts look 
nice and white when they’re dried,” Reginald 
explained to me. 

By and by the tiny car carried our trays of 
apricots over another railway and they were 


HOW WE CUT APRICOTS. 


119 


placed on the ground, in a great field which 
was already yellow with the drying fruit. 
There they were to be left in the bright sun- 
shine for days and days. There is no fear of 
a sudden shower, for it does not rain all sum- 
mer long in California. 

After we had seen our apricots safe in the 
drying field, we went and sat down under a 
specially fine tree that Reginald knew about. 
We ate all the apricots that we wanted, and 
then we strolled back to the house through 
the orchard. 

As we walked underneath the fine old trees 
with their glossy, green leaves and ripe yel- 
low fruit, I said to Reginald: quite agree 

with you, dear, that it is nice to live in the 
country, where there are so many apricots.’’ 


ETHEL’S FRIENDS. 

BY JANE L. HOXIE. 


Ethel was a little girl who lived in the great 
city of New York, but she loved the country 
very much and often wished that she could 
play in the big, green fields or pick wild flowers 
in the woods. She remembered one summer, 
when she was a very little girl, staying in the 
country for ever so many days, almost a whole 
month, and having such a happy time lying 
on the soft grass, listening to the birds, and 
watching the cows and horses, the sheep, the 
cunning little lambs, and the old white hen 
with her brood of downy chicks. Oh, how she 
did wish she could see them all again! But the 
country was far, far away, and Ethel’s papa 
and mamma were so busy that they could not 
take their little daughter there. 

But there was a place in the big city called 
Central Park that seemed to Ethel like the 
country. She loved to go there, and had happy 
times as she watched the sparrows scratching 


ETHEL’S FRIENDS. 


121 


for seeds and looking about for crumbs, and 
as she tried to get the gray squirrels to come 
nearer and take nuts from her hand. And 
some days, oh, happiest time of all! lying with 
her rosy face buried in the short, green grass, 
and pressing closer and closer to the ^^great 
brown house, the home of the flowers. 

One sunshiny day in June she had been 
playing in the park for a long time. Though 
she had coaxed and coaxed the squirrels, they 
would not come near; and though she listened 
for a long time to the hoarse croak of a frog, 
and watched and waited, looking about with 
big, bright eyes, she could not get even a peep 
at him. At last she grew very tired and sat 
down upon a bench near by to rest before 
going home. But scarcely was she seated 
when she heard some one call her name. 
‘'Ethel! Ethel!'^ a little voice said. She 
looked all about, but could see no one. ‘'Ethel! 
Ethel !^’ it called, this time very near. She 
looked around, saying, “Here I am; who is 
calling?^^ “It is I. DonT you see me? I 
am close beside you.^' 

Looking down Ethel saw at her feet a tiny 


122 


ETHEL’S FRIENDS. 


creature all dressed in dainty green. 
thought Ethel, ^^it must really and truly be a 
fairy. Why, I thought fairies were only make- 
believe people!’’ and she was so surprised that 
she forgot to answer the little creature. 

Soon the fairy said: ^^Ethel, because you 
love the birds and the flowers and the trees 
and all the animals, I have come to take you 
out into the country to visit your friends.” 

Ethel clapped her hands and said: ^^Oh, I 
should love to go to the country! but I 
haven’t any friends there.” 

'^Yes, you have,” said the fairy, ^^come and 
see.” 

So away they went, and Ethel all the time 
wondered whom the fairy could possibly mean 
by her friends; but they went so fast that, 
before she had time to do much thinking, 
Ethel found herself in a great, green meadow, 
bright and fresh and cool. Soon they came to 
a tree with spreading branches, and there, lying 
under it and resting in its shade, was a gentle 
looking creature with soft eyes, long, smooth 
horns, and a hairy dress of red and white. 

^^Here,” said the fairy, ^^is one of your 


ETHEL’S FRIENDS. 


123 


friends, and a very good friend she is to you, 
too/^ “Oh,’’ said Ethel, “now I know whom 
you mean by my friends!” 

I wonder who can tell me why the fairy called 
the cow Ethel’s friend. Yes, because without 
this friend Ethel would miss her cup of milk at 
breakfast and the golden butter for her bread. 

Ethel looked into the cow’s great dark eyes 
and, giving the white star on the cow’s fore- 
head a gentle pat, said, “Surely, you are my 
friend. Bossy.” But the fairy said, “There 
are many more friends, so come on, little girl.” 
So Ethel visited all the friendly animals, — the 
sheep with their woolly coats, the pigs in their 
sty, the chickens, ducks, and geese in the barn- 
yard, the doves in their home on the roof, the 
great clever collie in his kennel; and she found 
that she owed something to every one of them. 

Just as she was giving Rover a farewell pat, 
old Dobbin, harnessed to the farm wagon, 
came clattering up to the barn. “There is 
the best friend of all!” cried Ethel. “What 
should we do without Dobbin to carry the 
milk and butter and eggs to the city, and to 
bring back the flour and meal and sugar, to 


124 


ETHEL’S FRIENDS. 


draw the wood and coal that keep us warm, 
to help the farmer plow and harrow in the 
springtime, to draw in the hay and grain and 
the potatoes and apples and pears in the 
autumn, and to trot cheerfully along the dusty 
country road when the children take their 
rides? Oh! I know the farmer gives him a 
good, dry bed to sleep upon, a fresh manger 
of hay and a good measure of oats when he is 
hungry. I am sure he combs and smooths his 
black coat well, and puts a blanket on his back 
when the weather is too cold. He wouldn’t 
cut off his black, shiny tail for the world, for 
how could Dobbin drive away the flies that 
trouble him, without his tail? I know he has 
plenty of fresh water to drink, and sometimes 
the children give him a lump of sugar. The 
farmer never lets Dobbin lose a shoe, because 
his feet might get hurt, but always takes him 
to the blacksmith if only a nail is loose.” 

:ic * * * * * 

Buzz-z z-zz! buzz-z z-z-z! sounded close to 
Ethel’s ear. She opened her eyes and looked 
about. There she sat upon a bench in the 


ETHEL’S FRIENDS 


125 


park. The sun had gone down behind the 
hills, and it was almost dark. The pretty 
little elf in green had vanished. Her country 
friends were nowhere to be seen. Mr. Bee^s 
gauzy wings and yellow legs were disappear- 
ing in the distance. ^^There goes another of 
my friends,’’ said Ethel. think he must 
have come to tell me that it is time to go 
home.” 

So Ethel ran home and told her mamma all 
about the fairy and her friends. And, “Oh, 
mamma! do you suppose the fairy really and 
truly took me to the country?” said Ethel. 

“No,” said mamma, “I think my little girl 
was asleep and dreaming; but, for all that, 
the animals on the farm are really among our 
very best friends.” 

“Yes, I know that,” said Ethel, “how I 
wish I could really see them!” And for 
many days after she never went to the park 
without thinking of the wonderful fairy in 
green, and how he took her to visit her friends 
in the country. 


A LEGEND OF THE DANDELION. 


BY ELLEN ilOBENA FIELD. 

Once upon a time, in a tiny green camp 
by the roadside, lived a soldier all alone. 
He had traveled a long way from a dark, un- 
derground country, and meant to see some- 
thing of the world. The first thing that he 
saw was a broad field, full of waving banners, 
and he thought, ^^What a beautiful place I 
have discovered,’^ then he pitched his tent 
among the green grasses. 

Soon the raindrop elves saw how tired and 
dusty he was from his journey, and they 
soothed him with their musical stories, and 
gave him a refreshing shower bath. Through 
the clouds came the sunbeam fairies, bringing 
him a beautiful uniform of green and gold, 
and a quiver of golden arrows. Then the sol- 
dier was very happy, and smiled out at 
passers-by, and cheered many a weary traveler 


A LEGEND OF THE DANDELION. 


127 


with a glimpse of his sunny face. By and by, 
spring went away over the hilltops, the birds 
had finished their nesting, and the butterflies 
came to herald summer. 

Then the soldier began to feel tired, and 
knew that he was growing old. His gay 
uniform had faded, and the golden arrows had 
turned to silver, and the wind brownies shot 
them far away. So the soldier crept down 
among the grasses, and his green camp was 
left vacant. But everywhere his silvery 
arrows fell, there blossomed bright golden 
flowers, and the little children loved them, 
and called them dandelions. 


THE POLITE THRUSH. 


BY HELEN EDWARDS 

'Took! look! Aunt Helen,” said Eliza- 
beth one morning last spring, "there is some- 
thing white hopping on the lawn.” 

Aunt Helen looked and thought it was a 
rabbit; but when they had walked very 
quietly to the south end of the piazza they 
saw it was a dishcloth tipped up at one corner, 
and seeming to move of itself. Elizabeth 
was so surprised that she gave a little shout, 
and a brown bird flew from under the cloth 
and sat on a tree near by. 

"That must be a thrush,” said Aunt Helen; 
"they like to begin weaving their nests with 
something white. I suppose he took a cor- 
ner of the cloth in his bill, and the wind blew 
it all over him; it is too large to fly away 
with.” 

"But if it was smaller?” asked Elizabeth. 


THE POLITE THRUSH. 


129 


^^Then he could use it,” said Aunt Helen. 
^ ^Suppose I cut it into strips for him, and then 
you and I can sit under the pine tree, while 
I darn your stockings, and perhaps we shall 
see him at work.” 

Elizabeth was delighted, and ran to get her 
aunt’s workbasket ; and they were soon seated 
where they could see what became of the 
strips of cloth, without disturbing the bird. 
Before long he came hopping over the grass, 
pecked carefully at one of the strips, took it 
in his beak and flew away with it. 

should like to see him weave his nest,” 
said Elizabeth. 'What is weaving. Aunt 
Helen?” 

"I am weaving now,” said Aunt Helen. 
"You remember how your heel came right 
through your stocking; what have I done to 
the hole?” 

Elizabeth looked. "You’ve put ever so 
many threads from up to down across the 
hole,” she said, "and now you are putting 
ever so many from right to left, but first you 
put a thread over one and under one all 
across; and the next time it goes under first 


130 


THE POLITE THRUSH. 


and over second; so the darn is as strong as 
the stocking. I want to see some more weav- 
ing.” 

“Hold up your pinafore,” said Aunt Helen; 
“isn’t that like the darn?” 

“Yes, only the threads are smaller,” an- 
swered Elizabeth, “and your basket is woven 
too, only that is made with little straws,” 

“They make a strong basket all together,” 
said Aunt Helen. “Birds use straw for their 
nest, too, and hair and moss; — ^but I wonder 
that our thrush does not come back for 
another piece of cloth.” 

“It wouldn’t be polite to take it all,” said 
Elizabeth; “he left some for the others.” 

The cloth disappeared, piece by piece, in 
the next few days, and Elizabeth was sure 
that “the polite thrush” told his friends about 
it, and that each one only took his share. 

However that may be, Elizabeth’s aunt 
found a thrush’s nest long afterwards, when 
the wind had called all the leaves off the trees 
and the birds had gone south for the winter. 
It had string and hay and earth in it, and 
just one strip of white cloth. 


THE POLITE THRUSH. 


131 


“I think you were right about the ^polite 
thrush/ Elizabeth/' Aunt Helen said when 
she showed it to her. am glad that one 
little girl knew what the thrushes would do, 
and cared to help them.” 


THE WATER-DROPS. 


BY HELEN PEARSON. 

One bright summer day, Father Sun, who 
was very busy, called his children, the sun- 
beams, to him and said, ^ ^To-day, my little 
helpers, I need you to do some work for me. 
Go down to the big, round earth, far below, 
and bring back to the sky country all the 
water dust that you can carry.” 

The little sunbeams started, and, although 
it was a long, long journey, they were so bright 
and merry that it seemed like play to them. 

By and by, they drew nearer to Mother 
Earth, and before long saw myriads of tiny 
drops of water, some taking hold of hands and 
forming part of the great ocean, others rushing 
along in a strong, deep river, while some were 
dancing and tumbling in a merry brook, sing- 
ing sweet little songs. There, too, were tiny 
pools of water where the drops clustered to- 


THE WATER-DROPS. 


133 


gether, and yes! one bright sunbeam spied 
many tiny drops clinging to the grass blades 
and flowers. 

The next thing to be considered was how 
the sunbeam should induce the water-drops to 
come up into sky country. Surely, neither 
the ocean nor the river nor even the little 
laughing brooks could be carried up on them. 

But the little workers were not one bit dis- 
couraged, and they began at once to shake 
the water-drops apart. The little particles of 
water no sooner felt the little sunbeams shak- 
ing them hard than they said to each other, 
^^Come, now for a long ride.’’ 

And sure enough, up, up, up they sailed in 
the boats of air, helped on by the sunbeams. 
But as they rose higher in the air, suddenly 
they began to shiver, for just then the North 
Wind came rushing along. 

How the poor chilly vapor mass shook, and 
then suddenly began once more to form into 
drops. And some children, far down on the earth 
below,looked up at the sky and exclaimed, ^^See 
the dark clouds up there !” while their mammas 
said, ^Tt is going to rain soon.” 


134 


THE WATER-DROPS. 


In a few minutes the little drops felt as if 
they were being pulled back to earth, and, 
starting from the cloud which was holding 
them, they said to one another, ^^Now for a 
race!’^ And soon, patter, patter, patter, came 
the sound of the rain, and the little drops once 
more were back in their earth home. 


DOROTHY^S CHRISTMAS EVE. 


BY BERTHA TOWNSEND COLER. 

Dorothy stood at the window watching 
the raindrops splash into the puddles of 
muddy water in the street, and the dripping 
umbrellas of the few belated shoppers who 
were hurrying home with their arms full of 
packages; for it was Christmas eve, and 
instead of the merry jingle of sleigh bells with 
its suggestion of Santa Claus, instead of the 
soft whiteness of Christmas snow on tree and 
fence and road, there was the sharp patter of 
raindrops on the window. 

Now Dorothy was the most sensible, sun- 
shiny little girl you can imagine, and of 
course she wouldnT complain about the 
weather; but the little face in its frame of 
sunny curls looked pretty sober as she turned 
away and curled herself up in her papa's big, 
cushioned armchair. 


136 


DOROTHY’S CHRISTMAS EVE. 


The firelight flickered and danced cheerfully 
over the walls, the armchair was comfortable, 
and the patter of the raindrops had a soothing 
effect. All at once it seem d to grow lighter 
at the window, every separate raindrop had 
turned to a flake of snow; and what great 
flakes they were, and how fast they came 
down, rolling and tumbling over each other in 
their eagerness to cover the ground for a 
white Christmas for Dorothy. 

She sat up and laughed aloud. WasnT she 
glad though! and if she should get a new sled! 

There came a faint tap on the pane. ^Tt’s 
only a snowflake,” Dorothy thought. But it 
came again, and this time it was harder; and 
a shrill little voice said, ^Well, I should think 
you might let me in, after I Ve gone to all this 
trouble to give you a ride on your new sled.” 

Dorothy was puzzled. She rubbed her eyes 
to be sure that there could be no mistake, and 
then looked again. There on the window sill 
stood the dearest little creature! 

She was dressed all in sparkling white from 
her head to her feet, her wings were of finest 
gauze, and she had a tiny diamond star on her 


DOROTHY’S CHRISTMAS EVE 


137 


forehead. She carried a wand also tipped 
with a diamond star, and she was powdered 
all over with a fine diamond dust that sparkled 
and shone in the firelight. 

Dorothy had opened the window, and the 
little creature stepped inside and seated her- 
self comfortably on the arm of Dorothy^s 
cushioned chair. 

She laid down her wand and, folding her 
arms, nodded brightly at Dorothy. ‘Tm the 
queen of the snow fairies,’^ the newcomer said, 
^^and you looked so comfortable in here that I 
thought I’d just run in and have a little chat.” 

‘^I’m very glad to see you,” said Dorothy, 
politely. ^ Won’t you lay off your things?” 

The snow fairy laughed merrily. guess I’ll 

have to if I stay in here very long,” she replied. 

‘^But where do you think I’ve been? All 
over this town, peeping into the different 
houses where there were little folksy for we 
snow fairies love little folks.” 

“Oh, do you?” said Dorothy, and moved a 
little nearer. 

“But what do you think I saw?” the snow 
fairy persisted. 


138 


DOROTHY’S CHRISTMAS EVE. 


Dorothy shook her head. 

^ Well, I saw some little children that didn’t 
have a thing for their supper but dry bread; 
and one little tot was dragging around an old 
tin can with a string tied to it for a horse. 
That’s the only thing in the world she had to 
play with. And one little boy — his name 
was Teddy Day. Do you know Teddy?” 
she demanded suddenly. 

Dorothy brightened visibly. ^'Oh, yes,” 
she rephed, “his mother washes for us.” 

“Well,” continued the snow fairy, “I 
heard him tell his mother he was glad it was 
snowing, for he had a board that would slide 
down hill beautifully.” 

Dorothy drew a long breath. “Oh, there’s 
my old sled. I’ll take it to him the first thing 
in the morning! And there are my blocks 
and dolls and books! I’m so glad you told 
me; I didn’t know Kttle children ever had to 
play with old tin cans.” 

“We snow fairies know that the greatest 
happiness comes from giving happiness to 
others,” said the fairy, and as she spoke 
she disappeared, and a drop of water rolled 


DOROTHY’S CHRISTMAS EVE. 


139 


on to Dorothy’s hand from where she had 
stood. 

Dorothy awoke with a start, to find her 
mother bending over her. 

^Dh, mamma,” she cried, ^^may I give 
my old sled to Teddy, and my blocks and 
dolls to the baby with the tin can, and my old 
books?” Dorothy stopped short at sight of 
her mother’s puzzled face. ^Dh, I forgot, 
you didn’t see the little snow queen.” 

So, while mamma helped her prepare for 
bed, Dorothy told of her visit from the queen 
of the snow fairies. 

When the happy Christmas day was almost 
done, and Dorothy sat with her mamma in 
the firelit room, talking of the merry Christ- 
mas which her old toys had made for Ted an'd 
the baby, she said, ^^Mamma, it’s been the 
very loveliest Christmas I ever had, if it 
wasnH a white one.” 

And mamma said that Dorothy would find 
all through life, that the greatest happiness 
comes not from getting but giving. 

And Dorothy said, 'Why, mamma, that’s 
just what the snow fairy said.’’ 


ELON : A STORY OF THE FIRST 
CHRISTMAS. 


BY LUCIE KARNES. 

Elon was a little boy who lived when the 
world first heard the joyous Christmas tidings. 
His father was a poor Syrian shepherd who 
tended his flocks on the hiUs outside of 
Bethlehem. 

Elon, for so young a child, worked hard 
and had little pleasure, yet he was not un- 
happy. Every morning he went off to the 
meadows to guard the sheep, in whose midst 
he never missed the companionship of other 
children. Many a gay frolic he had across 
the hills with the playful lambs, and many a 
quiet talk to the gentle sheep, when he told 
them his childish troubles — for children have 
their own little trials — and he never failed to 
see in the mild creatures’ eyes the sympathy 
they could not speak. Elon’s heart was full 


A STORY OP THE FIRST CHRISTMAS. 


141 


of love for his dumb friends, and there was 
nothing he would not do for their sake. 

One night, a lamb — the youngest of the 
flock and Elon^s pet — was missing from the 
fold. It was growing late, and the little boy 
was tired and sleepy, but he took up his staff 
and went bravely off in search of the lost 
lambkin. It was a long and weary hunt, but 
finally he found the little wanderer out on a 
lonely road that led towards Bethlehem. 

Elon was unable to walk home again with- 
out resting. So he took the lamb in his arms 
and sat down on a big bowlder that lay by the 
roadside. 

It was a dark and lonesome spot where 
Elon sat, but above him the sky was glitter- 
ing with the evening stars, and while they 
were shining Elon had no thought of fear. 

Often, while tending his father^s flocks at 
night, he had studied the starry heavens. He 
had traced the constellations and watched the 
big planets come and go, as the hours ad- 
vanced, until he felt that he knew all the 
stars which shone above his native hills. But 
to-night he saw a strange one in their midst. 


142 


A STORY OF THE FIRST CHRISTMAS. 


a great star in whose brilliant light the largest 
of its companions looked dim. 

So absorbed was Elon in gazing at the new 
star, that he did not see three men riding rap- 
idly down the road. It was not until they 
had stopped close to where he sat that he be- 
came aware of their presence. Elon’s brave 
little heart beat with alarm. He clasped his 
arms tightly about the lambkin and would 
have fled from those three strange men who 
had appeared before him so suddenly. 

But the strangers called to him in earnest, 
kindly tones, will not harm you, little 
one, we wish but to ask you a question. 
Where shall we find the child who is born 
king of the Jews? We have seen his star in 
the East and have come to adore him and to 
lay our gifts at his feet.^^ 

But Elon could not answer their question. 
His little world was the sheep pastures, and he 
knew of nothing that occurred beyond them. 

Without another word to the wondering 
child, the three strangers turned around and 
rode quickly away. 

Elon watched them as they rode down the 


A STORY OP THE FIRST CHRISTMAS. 


143 


pathway that led toward Bethlehem, and 
when he could no longer see them he started 
on his way home. He trudged patiently 
along with his lamb asleep in his arms. He 
did not notice that the hills were dark and 
lonesome, or that the steep roads were hard to 
climb; he thought only of the wonderful 
star and the words which the three strangers 
had spoken to him. He wished that he, too, 
could find the child whom the three travelers 
had come so far to seek. 

In after years, when Elon had grown to 
manhood, his wish was gratified. He knew 
and had reason to love that holy child whom 
the three men from the East had come to 
adore, and whose beautiful star Elon had 
seen shining above the hills of Bethlehem on 
the first Christmas night. 


THE FIRST SNOW STORM. 


BY CORA E. HARRIS 

Far away in the sunrise country some lit- 
tle water drops decided to take a long 
journey in a cloud boat. So they donned 
their vapor dresses while the sunshine painted 
them a pink sail and ever so many gentle 
breezes came to help them on their way. 

With so many helpers, they had only to sit 
still and enjoy the beautiful world scenery 
below. How strange it seemed to look right 
down upon the roofs of houses and tops of 
trees and to ride right over the very church 
steeples! The boys and girls looked like wee 
dolls running to kindergarten, and the men 
and women like little boys and girls hard at 
work. 

So many things seemed to be leaving their 
summer homes. What did it all mean! The 
cornstalks stood huddled together in large 



‘‘The little vapor friends in the cloud boat.” 



I 




I 


/ 


■f 


I 


% 



V • 









♦ 



•1 








i 






THE FIRST SNOW STORM. 


145 


shocks, waiting to get a ride into some big 
barn. Great families of yellow pumpkins jog- 
ged slowly along in the farm wagons, each 
holding up a green stem-arm as if saying, 
^Tlease help me out when we get there!^’ 

Acorns, chestnuts, beechnuts, and all kinds 
of nuts were being hurried along to holes in 
hollow logs and trees. 

Maybe some one can guess what were the 
rapid little trains that were carrying them 
away from their summer tree-homes! 

The caterpillars seemed in a great hurry, 
but hardly knew where to go. They would 
run along very fast, then lift up their heads 
as though they felt lost, turn square around 
and go back again. 

The pine trees still kept their green dresses, 
while the maples stood almost bare, their ^^red 
and yellow and faded brown’^ leaves covering 
the grasses below. 

The little vapor friends in the cloud boat 
were feeling very sorry for the maples, when 
a southern breeze hurried past and called out, 
message from the Robin family to all the 
maple trees: ^Dear maples, we are having a 


146 


THE FIRST SNOW STORM. 


happy time in the South-land, plenty of sun- 
shine to keep us warm, and nice rice to eat; 
but we have not forgotten you at all, and we 
remember just how tenderly you rocked our 
baby birds in your long arms all the summer, 
and are now rocking to sleep your hundreds 
of baby leaf-buds. Take good care of them, 
and some morning when they all wake up 
with their new green dresses on youT find us 
back to live with you again.’ ” 

^^That’s jolly news! Guess we needn’t 
feel sorry for them after all,” said the vapor 
friends. 

Just then the North Wind came rushing 
along. “Oh, how cold it is!” they all ex- 
claimed; and in a twinkling the cloud boat 
was gone and the vapor friends were changed 
into beautiful snow crystals and went floating 
softly, softly down to the earth. 

The children shouted to see them coming 
and hurried to get out their sleds. One snow- 
flake fell right into a pansy’s cold blue face. 
Then others came, until the pansy was all 
covered up, and was snug and warm for the 
winter. Then the little snow-crystals nestled 


THE FIRST SNOW STORM. 


147 


close together and talked of all their wonderful 
journey, and of their joy in making the chil- 
dren and the flowers happy. I wonder 
whether they knew that, by and by, they 
would again be little water drops? 


NANNIE^S COAT. 


BY EMMA B. LAW 
PART I. 

Children, would you like to know how 
the kindergarten balls got their jackets? 

Well, I will tell you of a little boy who 
went to see them made and he found it so in- 
teresting that he wanted me to tell you all 
about it. 

Johnny was a little boy who lived in the 
country, and his papa kept many sheep. One 
day his papa came home and said: ^ ^Johnny, 
come out into the barn and see what I found 
down in the lot where we keep the sheep.’’ 

Johnny left the little red and yellow and 
blue balls which he had been playing with 
and ran to the barn to see what it could be. 
He opened the door very carefully, and there 
in one corner, close by its mamma, was the 
dearest little lamb with such a pretty, soft, 


NANNIE’S COAT. 


149 


white coat. Johnny was delighted, and asked 
his papa if he could have it for his own. His 
papa said that he might, and Johnny was so 
happy that he wanted to stay with it all the 
time. But his papa said: “No, that would 
not do, for the little lamb must go back to the 
field with its mamma and grow large and 
strong like the other sheep.^^ 

Johnny went nearly every day to see Nan- 
nie, as he called the little lamb, and was 
surprised to see how fast she grew. The little 
white coat grew so thick and woolly that 
when Jack Frost came in the fall Nannie had 
a nice warm blanket to wear. 

One day the next spring, when the trees 
were all dressed in their beautiful leaves and 
the meadows were green with grass and dotted 
with yellow dandelions, Johnny said: “Papa, 
the weather has grown so warm that I cannot 
wear my overcoat any longer, and some days 
I cannot even wear my jacket. I should 
think that Nannie would be very warm with 
all that wool on her back.’’ 

“Yes,^’ said Papa, “it is time to take it 
off.^’ 


150 


NANNIE’S COAT. 


So the next day papa took her into the 
barn and laid her on a table that looked much 
like our kindergarten table. 

Now Nannie did not know what was to be 
done with her, and she tried to get down; 
but papa held her very firmly and carefully 
with his left arm, while in his right hand he 
held a great pair of shears. Do you think 
they were like mamma’s shears? No, they 
were very large and queer, with short, broad 
blades, and were always open except when 
papa squeezed them, and then they would cut. 

Clip! clip! went the big shears, so fast that 
soon Nannie’s coat was all cut off and she was 
allowed to jump down from the table and run 
back to the meadow where her mamma was. 
How she did run and caper in the warm sun- 
shine! She felt so cool and nice! 

^^Papa,” said Johnnie, ^Vhere shall we 
keep Nannie’s coat so that she can have it 
when Jack Frost and Old Winter come 
again?” 

said his papa, '^Nannie will have 
a new coat then. The wool will grow and 
grow all summer, just as your hair does, and 


NANNIE’S COAT. 


151 


by the time she needs it her coat will be nice 
and warm. And this fleece must go to the 
mill to be made into yarn and cloth so that 
my little man can have a new coat and some 
warm stockings to wear next winter.’^ 

Johnnie thought it very wonderful that 
next winter he would be wearing Nannie^s 
coat. He wished that he might go to the 
woolen mill and see how it was made into 
yarn and cloth. So Johnny^s papa said that 
he would take him to the mill and let him 
see how many things must be done to the 
fleece before it could be made into a coat. 

The next morning Johnny was up bright 
and early, and when he came downstairs he 
found that mamma had breakfast all ready 
and that the horse and light wagon were at 
the door. So, as soon as they had eaten their 
breakfast and kissed mamma good-by, they 
started with Nannie’s coat for the woolen mill. 

PART II. 

It was a beautiful morning when Johnny 
and his papa went to the woolen mill, and 
they found every one so busy there that 


152 


NANNIE’S COAT. 


Johnny thought he would not bother them by 
asking many questions; so he kept his eyes 
wide open to see all he could, and listened to 
all that his papa said. 

When Nannie’s wool was carried to the 
foreman of the mill, he said that it was a very 
fine fieece, and told Johnny that he might go 
through the mill and see what was to become 
of it. 

First they went into a room where some 
women were washing wool in large tubs; and 
although some of the wool was very dirty 
when put into the tub, it soon became pure 
and white. Then it was laid out on cloths in 
the sunshine to dry. After that it was picked 
to pieces until it was as light and fiuffy as a 
great white snow bank. Johnny felt like 
jumping right into the middle of it, as he did 
into the snowdrifts in the winter; but, of 
course, he knew that that would not do. 

Then the wool was carried into a room 
where some women sat with queer things in 
their hands which Johnny thought looked 
like wire hair brushes, only they were longer 
and had handles on the sides. These women 


NANNIE’S COAT. 


153 


would take a little of the wool on one of 
these brushes and then brush it back and 
forth from one brush to the other until it was 
very soft and then brush it off in such a way 
that it was made into a little roll about as long 
as Johnny’s arm and no larger around than 
his thumb. These little rolls were laid side 
by side very straight and others laid on top 
until there was quite a pile of them. Then a 
boy carried them into the next room, where 
there were a great many large wheels, which 
Johnny’s papa said were spinning wheels; 
and by the side of each wheel was a high 
post, and on this post there was a little wheel. 
Then around this big wheel and reaching 
over and around the little wheel was a band 
of leather. 

These wheels, with the band of leather, re- 
minded Johnny of his mamma’s sewing ma- 
chine, only they were very much larger. A 
woman was standing by each of these wheels. 
One of them beckoned to Johnny to come 
nearer, and then she showed him how the 
little wheel went very fast when she took 
hold of the big wheel and gave it a whirl. 


154 


NANNIE’S COAT. 


Then the woman picked up one of the little 
rolls of wool and touched something which 
Johnny had not noticed before. It was a lit- 
tle rod of iron or steel about as large as a 
slate pencil, and it seemed to be connected in 
some way with the little wheel, for when 
the wheels turned round this little rod turned 
even faster than the little wheel. This rod 
was called the spindle and it, too, made 
Johnny think of his mammals machine — the 
part where she puts the bobbin when she winds 
thread. 

And what do you think? When the wo- 
man turned the big wheel and touched the 
spindle with the roll of wool, she pulled the 
wool out into a long thread, and the spindle, 
turning around so fast, twisted it and made it 
so strong that Johnny could not break it. 
Then as she walked back toward the spindle 
and turned the big wheel back in the oppo- 
site direction, the thread was wound on the 
spindle and another bit of wool was twisted 
into a long thread or yarn, and so on until 
all the little white rolls were spun into one 
long thread. 


NANNIE’S COAT. 


155 


Next it was reeled off, that is, unwound 
from the spindle on to something called a 
reel. Johnny thought it was a small wind- 
mill with its arms extended to hold the yarn 
instead of to catch the wind. 

When taken from the reel it was in a skein, 
just like the pretty white yarn that mamma 
bought at the store to make baby sister’s mit- 
tens of. But this woolen thread was to be 
used for another purpose. It was not to be 
left white, but was taken to the dye shop, 
where part of it was colored red, part blue, 
part yellow, and some was colored orange, 
some green, and some violet. 

Then papa led Johnny into a room where 
some girls sat around baskets of rubber balls. 
Here, too, he saw such beautiful skeins of 
wool, just the colors of his dear little kin- 
dergarten balls — red, yellow, blue, green, 
orange, and violet, so that the room looked 
almost as though it was full of rainbows. 
Johnny wondered what these girls were doing, 
and as he watched them he saw that each of 
them had a crochet hook and that they were 
making jackets for the little balls. Johnny 


156 


NANNIE’S COAT. 


was so delighted that he would have liked to 
stay a long time, but his papa said they had 
spent such a long time in the mill already 
that they had better just step into the weav- 
ing room for a few minutes and then hurry 
home. 

So they went to the weaving room, and 
there they found lovely soft woolen threads 
which had been colored a pretty, dark blue, 
from which men were weaving beautiful 
cloth to be made into jackets and cloaks for 
little boys and girls. ^^Now,’’ said papa, 
“we must go, and perhaps some day we may 
come again.” 

Johnny then thanked the man for letting 
him go through the mill, where he had seen 
so many wonderful things, and the man asked 
Johnny to come again, “For,” said he, “you 
have been very quiet, and have not touched 
anything or bothered any of the people who 
are working; so I can trust you to come 
again.” As soon as Johnny got home and 
had told his mamma all that he had seen, he 
ran out to the meadow to tell Nannie, and to 
thank her for the lovely wool which she had 


NANNIE’S COAT 


157 


given him. And then he gave her a nice 
lump of sugar, which she ate, nodding her 
head, meanwhile, as if to thank him for it. 
Then he happened to think of a little sleigh 
bell that Santa Claus brought him on Christ- 
mas, so he ran to the house and asked mamma 
if she would not fasten it to a bright red rib- 
bon to tie around Nannie^s neck, so that he 
should always know where to find her. This 
mamma did, and when Johnny tied it around 
Nannie’s neck she seemed very proud and 
would shake her head as if she liked to hear 
the tinkle of the little bell. 


HOW THE WIND FIXED MATTERS. 


BY ANNE MAXWELL MILLER. 

Of all the woods that the Wind knew 
there was one that he loved most of all, 
because it was so beautiful and so quiet, far, 
far away from all houses and noises of men, 
and because such happy little creatures had 
their homes there. 

One day he came blowing into this wood, 
but had not gone very far when he stopped 
short, for his breath was quite taken away 
with astonishment at something he saw. 
There on the root of a large elm tree sat a 
little brown Squirrel chattering away to a 
Robin that perched on a twig close by, while 
up on the tree trunk, near his own hole, was 
a Woodpecker, standing all upside down, as 
the most sensible Woodpeckers will do and 
never grow dizzy, though how they manage 
it is more than we can tell. 


pow THE WIND FIXED MATTERS. 


159 


The wind was not surprised to see these 
three talking together, for he knew that they 
were near neighbors and very good friends, 
and all lived in the same big elm tree; but he 
had never before seen them all look as they 
did on that day. Instead of twitching about 
and chirping merrily, the Robin sat very still 
and stiff on his twig, with his head drawn in 
and his beak stuck upwards, very much as if 
he was pouting; the bright eyes of the Wood- 
pecker were half shut, and his feathers all 
fluffed up in a very dissatisfled way; and even 
the SquirreFs bushy tail had not such a cheer- 
ful flourish as usual. 

‘Why, highty-tighty!’’ said the Wind. 
^What does all this mean, I should like to 
know? What has happened to give you all 
doleful faces on this beautiful morning, when 
every one should be full of happiness?'^ 

‘Tt is all very well for yon to say that,’’ said 
the Robin, ‘‘you who have no housekeeping 
troubles and cares ; but for my part, I am quite 
out of patience with plastering, and plastering 
mud, and weaving in hay and sticks. I can’t see 
why I cannot have a comfortable home all ready 


160 


HOW THE WIND FIXED MATTERS. 


for me, like the Squirrel in the tree trunk, with- 
out the trouble of building a nest every year.” 

^^Yes,” remarked the Woodpecker, ^^and 
how I should enjoy a change from my tire- 
some, dark hole.” 

^^You might vboth of you have reason to 
complain,” said the Squirrel, ‘^if you had al- 
ways lived, as I have done, in the same big 
hole near the ground, instead of being up in 
the tree trunk or among the beautiful, green 
branches. Why wasn^t I made so that I could 
build a beautiful hay nest?” 

They all looked very unhappy indeed. 

Now, you know, the dear old Wind has an 
excellent way of clearing things up. He 
whistled softly to himself, as if thinking very 
hard, and then he said, ^^Hurrah! I have a 
plan! I'll tell you what to do! Since your 
homes are already built, and each likes the 
others' best, why not change about and each 
try a new kind?'^ 

''What a beautiful plan!” said they all; 
and immediately the Robin flew down to the 
Woodpecker's hole, and the Squirrel scam- 
pered up the tree and along the branches to 


HOW THE WIND FIXED MATTERS. 


161 


the Robin’s nest, while the Woodpecker hur- 
ried into the Squirrel’s hole. To be sure, the 
Robin found the Woodpecker’s hole very 
close quarters indeed, and his smooth wings 
were all rumpled, and his beautiful brown 
tail feathers all pushed to one side; and the 
Squirrel had hard work to curl himself up into 
the Robin’s nest; and the Woodpecker felt 
very lonely in the Squirrel’s big hole, and 
found the nuts stored away there a very hard 
bed to rest upon; but they all tucked them- 
selves away as best they could, and tried to 
think that they were enjoying it very much 
indeed. It was such a change. 

And then something happened. The sly 
old Wind took a long breath and blew and 
blew, until the great elm tree swayed and 
shook like a twig. 

Scarcely had he stopped, when out and 
down and up came the three little creatures 
as fast as wings and feet could carry them. 

^'Gracious!” said the Woodpecker, ''such 
a big barn of a place I never saw. I was all 
blown about in it. For safety and coziness, 
give me my own little hole.” 


162 


HOW THE WIND FIXED MATTERS. 


^^You are very welcome to it, I am sure,’^ 
said the Robin. beak was almost 

blown away because I could not get my head 
far enough into the horrid little place. There 
is nothing like my own comfortable nest!” 

^^Comfortable indeed!” said the Squirrel. 
^Why, it blew about so that I nearly fell out 
and was obliged to hold on for dear life. Just 
wait until I can get back into my own snug, 
steady hole!” 

The old Wind laughed softly to himself, 
do not think that I shall find them dis- 
contented again,” said he. 


THE LITTLE COTTON PLANT. 

HOW IT BECAME A SHEET OF PINK PAPER. 

BY NONA H. McADOO. 

Once upon a time, there was a little cotton 
plant which lived in a great field in the 
far South. There were a great many other 
cotton plants both large and small growing 
in this same field, but I am going to tell you 
about this one, and how it became a sheet of 
pink paper for a sweet little girl named Dot. 

The skies were very blue and the winds very 
gentle over the field where the little cotton 
plant lived; and it grew and grew until one 
day a cotton-picker came along and pulled off 
the beautiful white bolls and hurried them 
away in his basket. The little bolls lay very 
still in the bottom of the basket, and by and 
by they found themselves in a great big fac- 
tory, where they were put through machines 
and made into yards and yards of lovely blue 


164 


THE LITTLE COTTON PLANT. 


cloth, which, after a time, was put for sale on 
the sheh of a shop. Then the mamma of a 
little girl named Dot, bought this blue cloth 
and made it into a beautiful new dress for 
her. And little Dot wore it and wore it until it 
was worn out and thrown into the rag-bag. 
Little Dot thought no more about it until one 
day a man whom I suspect you all know 
came through the streets calling: ^^Rags! 
rags! rags!^’ and little Dot ran and gave him 
what was left of her blue dress. And what 
do you suppose became of it? The old rag- 
man took it down to a paper mill, where it was 
torn into tiny pieces and ground into a soft 
pulp and then made into little pink sheets and 
envelopes — beautiful pink like a seashell! — 
and by and by Dot’s papa bought it all tied 
up in a nice little box, and gave it to Dot for 
a Christmas present. But she didn’t know it 
was made from her old blue dress, which had 
first come from the dear little cotton plant! 


ABOUT A COLT. 

(A True Story.) 

BY EVELYN HIBBARD. 

I have some friends who live on a big 
ranch in California. 

There is a fine young horse on the ranch, 
that has been a pet ever since he was born. 
When he was a young thing with long legs, 
he used to come to the door of the kitchen 
and drink milk from a pan, like a kitten; and 
he would follow the children about every- 
where. He was a rather rough playfellow; 
and finally he grew so large and strong, that 
his master said he must be shut up in the 
paddock. 

The children felt sorry to lose their com- 
panion and playfellow, but they could still go 
to visit him. 

One day the gate was left open, and before 
long the colt was running about in the gar- 


166 


ABOUT A COLT. 


den, trying to find his little friends. At last 
he saw one of the children standing at the 
drawing-room window. The colt gave a joy- 
ful whinny, and up the veranda steps he 
went and into the open door of the drawing- 
room. The child gave him a warm welcome 
and he made himself quite at home. By and 
by he saw something on the back of a chair 
that he thought might be good to eat, and 
he snatched it up. It was a tidy ! 

Just then the children’s mother came in, 
and how she laughed when she saw the colt 
in the drawing-room trying to eat the tidy! 
She took it away from him, not because she 
cared about the tidy, for she thought it very 
ugly; but because she also thought it was 
not a good thing for a colt to eat. And then 
she made him understand very plainly that 
he must go out of the drawing-room. 

One day the gate of the paddock was left 
open again, and of course out the colt came. 
As he had enjoyed himself so much in the 
house before, he thought he would try it again. 
This time he went into the dining room. 

Now it happened that all the china in the 


ABOUT A COLT. 


167 


house was spread out there, while the china 
closets were being cleaned. 

What a chase that colt led them before they 
could get him out! It seemed as though 
everything would be broken into pieces; but 
it was very funny to every one except the 
mistress of the house. Strange to say not a 
piece of the beautiful china was broken. 

But that was the last time that the colt ever 
came into the house. 


^^ALUS GONE/^ 


BY ANNIE E. POUSLAND. 

Edna was a dear little girl, only four years 
old. In the early summer she went to her 
grandmother’s in the country to make a 
visit, and such a good time as she had! 

All day long she could run about in the 
cool green grass and pick the pretty flowers. 
Then there were the birds, who had their 
nests all about, some high up among the 
eaves, some among the branches of the trees, 
some on the ground in the meadow; and two 
birdies had built their nests down among some 
bushes, where Edna could see into it very 
plainly. 

This was the nest which Edna loved best to 
watch, for when she first came to grandma’s 
she had found the tiny eggs lying in the nest, 
and every morning she would run out to see 
if the little birds had come. One morning 


“ALL’S GONE/’ 


169 


she came running into the house crying, 
^^Oh, grandma, theyVe come! Three little 
bits of birdies without any feathers at all, and 
such big mouths! They must be so cold, 
grandma, without a single feather; couldnT 
I take my dollie’s blanket and cover them 
up?^’ 

How grandma laughed! ^^No indeed,’^ 
she said, ^^ou would frighten them almost to 
death! The mother bird will keep them 
warm with her wings until their feathers 
grow.” So Edna watched them day after 
day, and saw the papa bird feed them and the 
mother bird take care of them, and she called 
them ^^my birdies.” 

Then there was the strawberry bed in the 
garden, where she used to hunt for the ripe 
red berries, and enjoy eating some of the 
treasures which she found. 

After a while mamma came to take her little 
girl away with her. So Edna said good-by 
to the beautiful garden and birds, and they 
went back to the dusty city, where there were 
no trees or green grass to see, and no birdies 
to watch. 


170 


“ALL’S GONE.” 


When Thanksgiving came, grandma sent 
for them to come and make her another visit. 
Then Edna was so happy! She longed so 
much to see the flowers and birds again, and 
to taste the strawberries, too; for she was a 
little bit of a girl and thought that she should 
find the country just as she had left it. 

So on the morning after they arrived, Edna 
ran out into the garden to get some pretty 
flowers for mamma. Such lovely roses and 
pansies as grandma always had! But when 
she looked about, not a single flower did she 
see! Only dry stalks standing in their places, 
— ^not even a sweet alyssum was to be seen. 
Next, Edna looked for the strawberry bed, 
and that was nowhere to be found either. 

How strange it was and how queerly every- 
thing looked! No green grass, and no leaves 
on the trees ! Everything was gone ! 

Then Edna remembered her birds and ran 
to see if they were gone too. havenT seen 
a birdie since I came,’' she thought, ‘^and 
that’s very strange, because there were ever 
so many before.” Sure enough, the nest was 
still there, but no birds, — they were gone too! 


“ALL’S GONE.’ 


171 


Then Edna began to cry, and ran into the 
house, sobbing as if her heart would break. 

“Why, Edna, what^s the matter?” said 
mamma. 

“Oh!” cried Edna, “the flowers and the 
strawberries and the leaves are all gone, and 
my birdies, too!” 

Then mamma took the little girl in her 
lap, and told her gently that it was true they 
were gone, but that they would come back 
with another summer. 

“Just think,” said mamma, “how cold it 
would be for the poor birds if they stayed here ! 
and there would be nothing for them to eat. 
But now they have gone to a country where it 
is always warm, and where there will be plenty 
of food for them. The flowers and strawberries 
are only asleep, dear. The summer has been so 
long that they are very tired, so they go fast 
asleep under the leaves, but in the spring they 
willwakeupandblossomagainasbrightasever.” 

Edna felt better then and smiled a little. 
“Will my birdies come back?” she asked. 

“Yes,” said mamma, “they are not really 
gone, you will see.” 


172 


“ALL’S GONE.’ 


Sure enough, when the summer came 
again, and Edna went to grandma’s, there 
were the flowers and fruit and birds all back 
again, and Edna was very glad to see them 
all. Even the trees had fresh green leaves. 
'^But,” thought Edna, wonder where the 
brown leaves are that were lying about on 
the ground last fall. Everything else has 
come back, so they must be somewhere.” 

Just then Edna’s mother came walking 
down the path. Edna was sitting on the 
grass close beside a flower bed, so her mother 
came and sat there, too; as they sat there 
talking Edna asked what had become of all the 
old autumn leaves which had been lying about 
on the ground when she was at grandma’s 
last time. 

Her mother picked a big purple pansy and, 
holding it up where Edna could look right 
into its beautiful face, said: ^ Would you 
like to have the pansy tell you about that?” 

^^Oh, yes,” said Edna with delight. 

Then her mother began to talk as if the 
pansy was speaking: “I can tell you where 
the dried leaves are; they fell on the ground 


“ALL’S GONE.” 


173 


in the fall and made a nice blanket to keep 
the flowers warm all winter. Then the rain 
fell and soaked the leaves until they became 
almost like the earth itself. In a little while 
some one came and planted seeds, and tiny 
plants sprang up from them; but we needed 
something to eat to make us grow strong and 
tall, you know, and it happened that the leaves 
made just the food that we needed, so they 
fed us and we grew stronger and taller until 
we blossomed as you see us now.” 

^^Oh!” cried Edna, ^Tm so glad that every- 
thing comes back again and nothing is lost! 
It makes me so glad!” 


WILLIE^S VISIT TO THE SEASHORE. 

BY ALICE LOTHERINGTON. 

Willie lived in a big city with his papa and 
mamma. He was only six years old, but was 
a great help about the house. 

He went to the store, played with sister 
Sue, rocked the cradle when baby George was 
cross, and did so many little things to help 
mamma that she called him her ^^busy little 
man.’’ 

When papa came home at night, he was 
sure to find his slippers and easy chair ready 
for him, put there by Willie’s loving little 
hands. 

Sometimes papa took his boy for a ride on 
his car. 

Willie loved to get on a seat as near as he 
could to the locomotive and watch the engine. 

'Tuff, puff, puff, chuck, chuck, chuck,” 
went the engine, as if it said: "Look out, 
here I come!” 


WILLIE’S VISIT TO THE SEASHORE. 


175 


Sometimes the engineer would blow the 
whistle. Then Willie would put his hands 
over his ears and look at papa. 

As summer came on the roses in Willie^s 
cheeks began to fade. ^This will never do/^ 
said papa, patting the little fellow’s cheeks. 
^Willie must go to grandpa’s. I’ll write 
tonight.” 

In less than a week grandpa was at the 
house, ready to take his grandson home with 
him. 

When Willie saw the big, blue ocean, his 
brown eyes opened wide in wonder. It was 
not long before the salt air and sea bathing 
brought the roses back to the little boy’s 
cheeks, and he was soon strong again. 

What fun he had playing in the sand! 
Such deep caves and wells he dug, and fine 
houses and castles he built! How he often 
wished that sister Sue was with him! 

One day grandpa asked Willie if he would 
like a row on the creek. 

Of course he would. What boy would 
not like to go with his grandpa? 

They were soon in the boat, and while 


176 


WILLIE’S VISIT TO THE SEASHORE. 


grandpa rowed, Willie leaned over the side 
and looked at the bright shells, pretty peb- 
bles, and little fishes in the water. 

He was just about to put out his hand to 
catch a piece of seaweed fioating by, when he 
felt something pinch his foot. 

^^Oh, oh!’’ he cried, ^Vhat’s that?” There 
it is, again.” And the little boy’s face grew 
very red 

^Why,” said grandpa, looking in the bot- 
tom of the boat, ^ fit’s a crab!” and grandpa 
picked it up by the back. ^^He can’t hurt 
now.” 

^^What an ugly looking fellow!” exclaimed 
Willie. ^^Throw him overboard, please.” 

“Let’s look at him first,” said grandpa. 
“See, he has eight legs and two claws or 
hands, one of which is much larger than the 
other and very strong. With this claw he 
digs his house, gets his food, and pinches 
people.” 

“Digs his house?” laughed Willie, “oh, 
grandpa!” 

“Yes, Willie, digs his house in the sand 
when the tide is low; and, more than that. 


WILLIE’S VISIT TO THE SEASHORE. 


177 


he makes a long hall, a bedroom to sleep in, 
and a pantry for his food.’’ 

'What does he eat?” asked the boy. 

"Flies, ants, little insects, in fact, almost 
anything he can get. He will even eat sea- 
weed.” 

Just then crabbie tried to pinch grandpa’s 
hand. 

"What funny eyes the crab has,” ex- 
claimed Willie; "see how he pushes them 
out.” 

"His eyes are on little pegs which he can 
push in and out as he pleases,” was the reply. 
"He is very careful of his eyes, for he knows 
that if he loses an eye, it will be a whole 
year before he has a new one.” 

"If he loses an eye, will another one grow?” 
asked Willie. 

"Yes,” was the answer. 

"Is a crab a fish?” asked the boy. 

"It is called a shell fish,” said grandpa. 
"Baby crabs change their shells very often 
because they grow so fast. Just like a little 
boy that I know,” and grandpa looked at 
Wniie. 


178 


WILLIE’S VISIT TO THE SEASHORE. 


^ When the crab gets older, he only changes 
his coat in the springtime, and, when he is 
fully grown, he keeps- his shell, which grows 
thicker and thicker year by year.” 

^ What are crabs good for?” asked Willie. 

^^To eat,” was the answer. “They also 
help to keep the ocean and seashore clean.” 

“I wonder if I could take hold of the crab,” 
asked Willie, looking at grandpa. 

“If you take him by the back as I do he 
can’t hurt you,” said grandpa. 

Willie tried, but his hand slipped and he 
caught hold of the crab’s leg. 

Grabble gave a jump and before Willie 
knew what had happened, was swimming 
down the creek, and Willie was left with part 
of a crab’s leg in his hand. 

Grandpa had to laugh at the expression on 
Willie’s face, as he looked at the leg. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” said the boy. 

“And the crab is so glad to get away,” said 
grandpa. 

“I didn’t mean to break its leg,” said 
Willie. 

“You didn’t break it, my boy. The crab 


WILLIE’S VISIT TO THE SEASHORE. 


179 


broke it himself. A crab can break off a leg 
when he pleases and a new one will soon 
grow in its place. 

“And now I think it must be near dinner 
time, so we had better start for home,’^ said 
grandpa, as he headed the boat for the shore. 

The summer passed quickly, and one 
morning early in September whom should 
Willie see coming up the road but papa, 
mamma, sister Sue, and the baby! 

How much Willie had to tell. Mamma 
said that he was a regular chatterbox. 

“Well, I see the roses are back,’^ said 
papa, “and somebody is getting too big for 
his clothes. I wonder if my little boy is 
ready to go home?^’ 

This was a hard question for Willie to 
answer. 

But when grandpa said he was to come again 
next summer and bring sister with him, he 
was quite contented to go home. 

I 




JAN ly 1920 


LIBRARy OF CX)NGRESS 



□ODElSbQfiflS 


V 


